Tails Of The Cat
by Queen Raja
Summary: A collection of unconnected one-shots, based on prompts requested by readers, all centered around Professor McGonagall.
1. Take The Job, Potter

**A/N: Welcome to my newest endeavor! This is a series of mostly unconnected stories, based off of prompts requested by readers. The theme is that all the prompts must be centered around McGonagall. Wish I owned the HP universe, but obviously I don't. :(**

**Prompt: McGonagall convinces Harry to become a DADA professor instead of an Auror.**

Take The Job, Potter

It was a few days after the battle and the school was almost fully restored. It was amazing, the work that could be done when everyone put their wands together to do some good. Not a single student refused to help rebuild the school they called home— not even those whose parents aided in its destruction.

There were certainly faces she had not expected to see. First, Draco Malfoy, who had the gall to _actually_ _hug_ the monster in front of everyone, had earned his redemption. He returned to the ruins a day after the chaos had subsided, and waited for her in her newly appointed office. His apology was sincere, and he had personally offered to rebuild whatever area of the castle she saw fit. Even the Gryffindor Tower. He truly wanted to earn his forgiveness.

Another face she absolutely did not expect to see out and about was that of Harry Potter, who should be resting. Less than an hour after he has made history and saved the entire wizarding world, he was already working to fix what was broken. Or rather, what he thought _he_ had broken. Never had she seen more misplaced guilt than in that boy. He didn't ask to be the so-called "chosen one", and he didn't ask for any of the destruction that followed.

Still, he was hard at work. She began to get a wee bit worried that he wasn't taking care of himself, but she knew he had his loyal friends supporting him and making sure he ate and slept. She reminded herself to thank them later.

Perhaps his coping mechanism was throwing himself into his work. She could relate to that. She had done that, once upon a time. Of course, she found it very uncharacteristic of the boy, after grading six years of average-at-best essays from him. But he's been through so much, she wouldn't put it past him. Whatever would help him, she would support.

And it was in that vein of thinking that led to her sitting in the chair that once belonged to her mentor, waiting for the boy's arrival. He was doing as well as anyone expected him to be; his coloring was slowly coming back, he was making an effort to visit all those still in the hospital ward, and there was a rumor going around that he was even seen laughing in the courtyard at a joke made by Mr. Weasley. But she'd be lying if she said she wasn't worried. What would happen when the rest of the students went home for the summer holidays? What about when his friends would walk out the doors of the castle, many of whom would likely not return? Would he be okay when the restoration was finished, and his friends were no longer in close proximity?

As if on cue, a knock reverberated through the office. She smiled internally, knowing he had to have said the password she set in honor of the great wizard who came before her. And she certainly wasn't referring to Snape. After opening the doors with a wave of her wand, she sat at attention and awaited his entrance.

He looked taller. Perhaps it's the weight of the world that's been taken off his shoulders that allowed him to stand up straighter.

"You asked to see me, Professor?

Minerva gestured for him to have a seat, and took out the tartan container she kept fully stocked for occasions like this one.

"Have a biscuit, Potter."

He hesitated for a brief moment, but seeing the stern expression she kept on her face indicating that declining was not an option, he took a biscuit. The expression melted away and led to a countenance of warmth.

The professor looked him in the eye, and asked "How are you?"

A bit confused, the boy replied "I'm great, Professor." Then as an awkward afterthought: "How are you?"

Even though that answer was unacceptable (as she doubted it was the truth), she made the decision to let it go and move on to what she actually called him in for. If she had learned anything in the past year, it was that time was precious.

"Very well. I'm sure you're wondering why I requested your presence."

The boy said nothing in response, so she pressed on.

"I wanted to know what your plans were after this is over."

The confused look deepened, and he slowly decided, "Well, I'll probably be heading down to The Great Hall, I guess. Now that everything has been returned to where it was, I heard they're planning on having the end-of-year feast as scheduled. Something to celebrate a new beginning. Or at least that's what they say. I wasn't going to go, but everyone will be expecting me, so I have to at least make an appearance."

She hid her smile as best she could below a single raised eyebrow. That wasn't exactly what she meant. Of course, she knew about the feast, she as headmistress had organized it. But further to the point, she was amused that he actually thought she called him here to talk about his trivial dinner plans. Sometimes, he really was the spitting image of James.

"No, Mr. Potter. I meant what are your long term plans. Beyond what you plan to do directly after I release you?"

The look of understanding on his face was almost comical. He had the sense to look sheepish before giving his answer.

"Oh. To be honest, Professor, I really hadn't expected to be alive right now, let alone long enough to make future plans. I really haven't a clue what I'll do next," he admitted

She figured as much. "While I know circumstances have certainly changed, I'm still committed to the promise I made you during your fifth year. If it's what you want, I'll still do whatever it takes to make you an Auror. Even if it's the last thing I ever do. I didn't just say that for Dolores's benefit."

His smile was so filled with innocence. He was genuinely touched by her sentiment, as if he couldn't believe his head of house was capable of being nice. He know better though, she was sure of it.

"Thank you. So much, Professor, thank you. But I really don't know if that's a very good idea for me anymore."

"What do you mean?"

"Well now that I've defeated Voldemort twice over, I'll have a target on my back for the rest of my life. Not that that's anything new of course," he chuckled morbidly. "But I don't think I want to ask for danger to come to me. Honestly Professor, a nice, boring office job sounds wonderful."

"I can't offer you an office job," the professor started. She took a second to assess that this was truly a good idea. He could handle it. He's handled much bigger tasks. "But I can offer you a teaching job."

A moment of silence followed.

"...I'm sorry?" He nearly choked on the words. To say he was shocked was an understatement.

"As I'm sure you're aware," she continued as if he never spoke, "we have a staffing shortage for the upcoming year." She didn't need to explain why. He didn't need a reminder. "And as I remember, you managed to teach an entire army of various skill levels what they needed to know in the Dark Arts."

"Yeah, but..."

"And," she interrupted, "you received top marks in every Dark Arts class taught by a competent teacher." Umbridge and Snape excluded, of course. In her eyes, the former was an evil toad who hated children, and the latter...

"Yes, but..."

"AND I can't think of a single person more qualified for the position than you. You clearly enjoyed teaching during your fifth year, and you have a real knack for it. What possible objections are you about to raise?" She pulled out her lecturing voice, hoping he would take the hint and just accept already.

"Professor, I haven't even finished my seventh year."

"You spent that time gaining actual field experience, hunting down the darkest objects magic can create and then destroying them! The knowledge you gained would be far more than what you would have learned sitting in a classroom." She knew she had a reputation for adhering to the rules, but did he seriously think she'd make him sit through a year's worth of material that is far below his level of understanding?

"I never took my NEWTs. Wouldn't I have to get an outstanding to teach?" His voice was so quiet, it was barely above a whisper.

"Harry." She was hoping the use of his first name would grab his attention long enough to actually listen to what she was saying. "You just defeated Lord Voldemort. I think the entire wizarding would would agree that that was rather outstanding."

He looked as if he was about to object again, and before he could, she put a stop to it. "Potter, do you want the position as the newest Defense Against the Dark Arts professor, or not?"

If it weren't for her feline hearing, she probably wouldn't have even heard the tiny "yes" emitted from his mouth.

She gave one of her rare, genuine smiles, and stood up to shake his hand. Which felt a bit silly, considering she'd known this boy since he was still wearing a nappy.

"Welcome aboard, Professor Potter," She half-joked.

He laughed, because to him that title sounded utterly ridiculous. In any case, he was still grateful.

"Thank you, Headmistress McGonagall."

The two shared a look, and the handshake turned into a hug. This deal was quite mutually beneficial. He never had to leave the castle he called home, and she didn't have to say goodbye to the boy— or man, rather— who would always take up residence in a special place in her heart.

Together, maybe they could rebuild more than just the foundation of the castle. They could help rebuild each other into the people they aspire to become.

**Have a prompt centered around McGonagall? Leave a review below or PM with your request, and I'll do my best to make it happen! **


	2. Don't Poke The Lion

**Prompt: McGonagall's thoughts during her duel with Snape in DH? What did she think when Snape was trashing Harry?**

**A/N: Due to the nature of the prompt, I decided to have it take place in movie universe. All of the dialogue was taken directly from the movie version of DH. Not mine. **

Don't Poke The Lion

He had all the students gathered in The Great Hall. They shuffled in like soldiers, fearful of whatever punishment the Carrows— or worse, Severus himself— saw fit if they stepped a toe out of line.

That's not how children are supposed to behave. Although she had little time for frivolity and the disastrous pranks that were often pulled by the bravest students of her own house... this was simply awful. Not a smile to be seen, no joyous laughter or even vocal discussions took place. No. There was simply silence, and the sound of feet shuffling with heads held down as the students took their places with their assigned houses.

The nerve of that man... He certainly had bravery to up and take the position of a man (she thought) they both respected after brutally murdering him. But it wasn't bravery that got him this far; it was ambition. He would stop at nothing to get what he wanted. and he was cunning enough to pull the rug right out from under the greatest wizard of all time. A true Slytherin.

Although Minerva was a Gryffindor through and through, even she did not contain enough bravery to stand up to that man. If she valued her life —which she did, very much— she knew the only thing she could do was to keep her head down with the others and fall into line.

He stood like a snake at the head of the hall, flanked on each side by the Carrows. His shifty eyes roaming the crowd, just waiting for someone to slip up. She hoped for the sake of her students that the first one to do so wasn't a Gryffindor.

Finally, after what felt like an eternity of uncomfortable silence, he spoke.

"It has come to my attention that earlier tonight, Harry Potter was sighted in Hogsmead."

Her stomach dropped. She felt both immediate relief that Potter was alive and well, and utter dread as to where this speech was going. She wanted nothing more than to protect the boy. Not just because he was their best chance at winning the war, but because he deserved it, dammit. She couldn't think of anyone who deserved a chance at life more than that boy.

"Now. Should any person, _student or staff_, attempt to aid Mr. Potter, they will be punished in a manner consistent with the severity of their transgression."

She didn't think it was possible for her heart to break any more for that boy. Not only was this _traitor_ willing to disavow Potter, but he was actually prepared to go so far as to punish any who should come to his aid? Severus was the man she has spent years defending to frightened first-years and lazy upperclassmen who disagreed with his teaching style. The man who she had once sworn was not evil, and had no desire for the Sorcerer's Stone. The man who couldn't possibly be a death eater, and had learned from the mistakes of his past.

Minerva had never felt like such a fool.

"Furthermore, any person found to have knowledge of these events, who fails to come forward, will be treated as... equally guilty."

The nerve.

"Now then. If anyone has any knowledge of Mr. Potter's movements this evening, I invite them to step forward."

The older professor said a silent prayer that nobody would follow that command. She knew none of her lions would. While brave, sometimes to an idiotic extent, they were all a band of brothers and sister. They may not be known for the loyalty of a Hufflepuff, they would never purposefully tattle on one of their own.

The Hufflepuffs seemed unlikely to as well. While Potter wasn't a part of their house, he was still a student among them, and a friend to all. Their loyalty extended far beyond the boundaries of their own house.

Come to think of it, it wouldn't make much sense for a Ravenclaw to step forward either. They were too clever to fall into that trap. They had nothing to gain for it, and everything to lose. And they were also much too clever to fall into the empty threats of a traitor.

That left Slytherin. While she didn't particularly care for the house at the moment (if only because a certain colleague had hailed from that house whom she wasn't too fond of) she hoped for their sake they didn't oblige. Perhaps they would operate under the false delusion that snitching on Potter would earn them prestige among the harsh administration. She certainly wouldn't provide it. Even if they did believe that, she found it very unlikely that any of them would have much information to begin with. Potter tended to stay away from that house as much as she did.

A silence followed. Relief began to settle back into her stomach. Until:

"Now."

She was so tempted to step forward herself. Not to reveal Potter's whereabouts; she didn't know any more than he did. But to finally put him in his place. To tell him that he's a liar, a scoundrel, a series of expletives she wouldn't dare let her students hear but that described him perfectly. But just as she was thankful none of her own students had stepped forward, she knew she shouldn't either. If she did, she'd likely lose her job or worse, and the children needed her now more than ever. So, she swallowed her bravery and kept her head down like everyone else.

That is, until her head snapped up when she saw out of her periphery a student, _a Gryffindor student_, who stepped forward.

In that moment, when all she saw was a older boy in with a maroon hood, she had never felt more disappointed in her own house.

Then he opened his mouth. And her heart sang.

"It seems, despite your exhaustive defensive strategies, you still have a bit of a security problem, headmaster."

_Yes!_ Not only is the boy safe, but he's well enough to stand up to one of the most dastardly wizards to ever walk these corridors. And he had managed to break past Severus's lousy wards, and blend in completely undetected. While she couldn't tell the headmaster off, now she didn't have to. Her boy was home. And he clearly came to kick some ass.

Then, suddenly, the great doors burst open, and The Order was storming the hall. He came prepared.

"I'm afraid it's quite extensive."

While she often wondered if the boy's bravery was more of an troublesome obstacle than a virtue, she had to hand it to him. She was proud.

"How dare you stand where he stood?! Tell them how it really happened that night! Tell them how you looked him in the eye, a man who trusted you, and killed him. Tell them."

Nope. If she thought she was proud before, words could not describe how she was feeling now. His bravery managed to surpass her own. She didn't dare say those things to his face, but Potter just did. She would do anything to make sure he succeeded in whatever he came here to do. Even if it were just to deliver those lines of truth.

She could see it in the potion master's eyes. He was furious. Like the snake he was, he was mentally preparing to strike.

Just as she predicted, he raised his want to fight. In an instant she threw herself in front of Potter, shielding him and ready to attack the very man who dared to threaten the boy who lived.

She vaguely noticed the gasps and screams and students who rushed away in preparation for what was about to happen. What she failed to notice, however, were that most of the screams were in reaction to her, not him. Even after inheriting the title of headmaster, the students still knew who to really fear when angry.

They both just stood, wands at the ready, waiting for the other to strike first. _Good, _she thought. _Provoke me_. _See what happens._

She remembered what she was fighting for, and summoned fire out of the tip of her wand as a warning. Let him see what he's up against.

He blocked it, as expected, but she wasn't done. She blasted more and more. She was unable to stop herself at that point. He deserved much more than what she was giving him. If anything, she was going too easy on the experienced dueler.

The Carrows fell, but to Minerva, they were collateral damage. She felt good to have taken them down, but she had her full tunnel vision focused on the traitor by the large windows. She whipped the fire around, forcing him to flee or get burned. Like the coward he is, he chose the former.

Severus crashed through the ornate windows, much to the joy of students. The tyranny had ended. And she was here to make it all better.

**Have a prompt? Leave a review below or PM with your request, and I'll do my best to make it happen! **


	3. Six?

**Prompt: Harry is ready to propose to Ginny, but he doesn't know how. So he goes to McGonagall for advice. **

Six?!

Harry dragged his feet up the flights of stairs, really not wanting to continue any further. But he was sort of between a rock and a hard place. He had been dating Ginny for five consecutive years since the end of the war, and he didn't have a doubt in his mind that he wanted to spend the rest of his life with her.

The problem is, he had absolutely no idea how to ask. Ginny is a practical person, but he knew that casually bringing up "Hey, wanna spend the rest of your life with me?" over dinner in their shared flat wouldn't go over too well. She may still say yes, but she also deserved romance for once in her life. And romance wasn't one of Harry's many strong suits.

Come to think of it, he wasn't entirely sure what he was doing here in Hogwarts, on his way to visit the headmistress. While she may be one of the only maternal figure in his life (aside from Mrs. Weasley, who would no doubt spill the beans to Ginny out of sheer excitement), he wasn't sure what advice she would provide. It wasn't like she was married, and he highly doubted she had a string of male suitors knocking at her door.

So here he was, ready to knock in her door, in hopes that she would be able to provide any insight at all. She wasn't expecting him however, which meant he would have to guess the password to her office.

After making several visits to her over the years, he understood the trend of her passcodes. It was always a color, followed by a Quidditch term. Her first one ever, "Golden Snitch" was very easy to guess. But over the years, they had gotten more and more complex.

Harry stood in front of the gargoyle, guessing random combinations to no avail. One of the portraits nearby who recognized him finally took pity and gave him the password, knowing the headmistress wouldn't mind.

He repeated "Vermillion Quaffle" to the now-peeved gargoyle, who reluctantly opened the set of stairs leading to her office.

Harry wasted another fifteen minutes just pacing outside of her door, deciding this was one of the stupidest things he's ever done. And that really says something considering the many adventures he had as a kid.

Eventually he gathered up the courage to knock on the door, which opened very quickly after hearing the knock.

Professor McGonagall sat at her desk, and seemed to be concentrating on whatever she was writing. She didn't even bother to look up when she remarked, "Finally decided to stop pacing, and come in then, hmm? A wise choice."

How she knew he was pacing outside, he didn't know. He suspected the portraits, they just loved gossiping. Or maybe his footsteps were not as quiet as he thought. Still refusing to look up, she added, "Is this is disciplinary visit, or are you here for..." Her voice faded when her eyes met his.

"Harry!" A smile graced her face. "To what do I owe the pleasure?"

"Well, I sort of came to ask for some advice. But if you're busy, I can..."

"Nonsense! Please, do come sit."

Harry did as he was told while she got up and retrieved the metal container with the pattern that had become so familiar to him over the years.

"Would you like a biscuit?"

He accepted, if only to prolong the embarrassing discussion he absolutely didn't want to have. She herself took one, and they munched in comfortable silence for only a few seconds.

"So. What kind of advice will I be offering today, Mr. Potter?"

One of the things he loved and absolutely hated about the older woman was he ability to cut to the chase. She really didn't put up with any of his familiar nonsense.

As a curtesy to her, he decided her wouldn't waste any more of her time beating around the bush. "Well, I sort of need advice regarding... future... romantic endeavors?" So much for not beating around the bush.

He didn't think her eyebrows could raise any further. He could tell she was trying to choose her words tactfully. "And what... _romantic endeavors..._would you be referring to?"

_Just spit it out! _"Well... I _kindasortawannaaskGinnytomarryme." _Phew. The hard part was over.

"I'm sorry? Could you try that again while using more than one breath this time?" She was getting irritated. He couldn't say it was unjustified.

He took a deep breath and slowly pronounced, "I want to ask Ginny to marry me. But... I don't exactly know how?"

When he previously thought her eyebrows couldn't raise any higher, he was dead wrong. Her eyes screamed of shock, but her mouth slowly expanded to form a smile. Was that a look of... pride?

"I must say, Harry, I'm very pleasantly surprised. I don't make it a habit to interfere in the personal lives of my students, but I was always hoping you two would last. And here you are!"

Yep. That was definitely pride. Whether she was proud of him, or proud that two of her Gryffindors had hit it off, he'll never know.

"Well we aren't engaged yet. That's what I wanted to ask you about. I realize we may be the blind leading the blind, but..."

"I am hardly blind when it comes to romance, but thank you for that assumption, Potter." Ah. There's that sarcasm he didn't realize he missed. She continued, "As it just so happens, I fancy myself as rather an expert when it comes to proposals."

Confused and a bit intrigued, he asked "and why is that, Professor?"

"I've been proposed to six times. I am very aware of what makes a proposal romantic."

_What?!_ Of all the things he was expecting her to say, it wasn't that.

She must have noticed his look of shock and decided to take pity on him. "I realize that you, as a former student, have preferred to ignore any indication that your teachers have lives outside of Hogwarts, but many of us assuredly do."

He didn't know what to say from that. His mind was still reeling from the information that his previous head of house has been proposed to _six times?!_

Without thinking, he made the mistake of uttering the first thing that came to mind. "Recently?"

If looks could kill, he'd no longer be known as _The Boy Who Lived_.

"No, Mr. Potter. Would you like to question me more about my love life, or shall we move onto yours?" Whoops.

"I'm sorry, Professor." He couldn't entirely say that he was, though. Now he _needed_ to know more. He had to tread very carefully. "Any advice you could give me would be more than welcome. For example, what would make her say no?" He questioned the older woman, hoping it would prod her to explain her many proposals.

"While I appreciate you trying to mask your curiosity, how about I just tell you what you're itching to ask so we can be done with it, hmm?"

He had the sense to look somewhat ashamed. In a tiny voice, he squeaked, "yes, please."

"Very well. My first proposal was when I was very young, to a man I loved dearly. He took me to a muggle amusement park, and put on a rather spectacular fireworks display before getting down on one knee and asking to spend the rest of my life with him. The proposal was so grand, I was swept away in the romance of it all and said yes."

That surprised Harry. But the look of it all wasn't a look of nostalgia. She looked almost... sad? He couldn't understand why, this sounded like a very happy memory.

"In the end, we just weren't compatible. I broke it off the next day." Harry had a lot of questions to that, but she continued without letting him ask any. "My second proposal was to a man I used to work with back in my days at the ministry." Harry hadn't known she had every worked at the ministry. This entire conversation was eye-opening for him.

"Elphinstone conjured me beautiful roses and said he was in love with me, and asked me to marry him. I said no because I wanted to focus on my career, and it appeared war was on the horizon."

Harry felt like there was more to the story than she was letting on, but he didn't try to interrupt.

"He asked me to marry him three more times, each with the same result. But then the war came, and with it I realized my priorities in life. Shortly after _you_ had silenced Voldemort for the first time, he asked again by taking me on a walk to my favorite place and telling me how he felt. Finally, I said yes."

He didn't know how to feel knowing that he had actually played a part in Professor McGonagall's personal life. She seemed to be done with her story, yet the story still felt woefully unfinished.

"So... what happened? With Elphinstone?" He didn't want to ask, but there's no way he could let the story end there. "Why didn't you end up marrying him?"

"Not that it's any of your business..." Oh boy. He was in trouble now. He knew he shouldn't have asked. "But I did. Marry him I mean."

It was in that moment that it dawned on Harry how little he actually knew about his professor of six years. He always assumed her work was her life, and her love was for teaching. Come to think of it, was she currently married? How did he not know this major, important detail of the life of someone he considered a friend?

"Before You distastefully ask, I am no longer married. He died several years ago from a nasty Venomous Tentacula bite."

Now he he really regretted making her talk about it. He felt awful.

"I'm so sorry, Minerva" he said somberly.

"Thank you, but I assure you it's unnecessary. Now. Let's talk about you. Do you have any idea where you plan on proposing? Location is everything." She said. He had to give her credit for being able to switch topics so effortlessly.

"Well, I was thinking maybe I'd find a way to do it on the Quidditch field after one of her games." He hoped that was romantic enough, because that was really the only idea he had.

Minerva thought about it for a moment, then reached a conclusion. "While it's certainly unconventional, I think it's brilliant. Many men try to impress their fiancée-to-be y taking them to a nice restaurant, or doing something equally as extravagant. But that's thoughtless. Your idea proves that you know Ginny well enough to understand what's important to her, that you want to marry her and no one else."

He certainly hadn't thought of it that way. Come to think of it, he was practically a romance god for thinking of such a thoughtful idea!

"Do you have a ring?"

Merlin. He forgot that one detail.

"Uhh... not yet. I don't exactly know what to look for."

Minerva gave him a knowing look and smiled. "How about I take you shopping over the upcoming holidays?" With only one week until winter break, the timing couldn't be better.

"I'd love that," he was able to say in all honesty. After all, who better to scout out the perfect engagement ring than a woman who had received six herself?

**Have a prompt? Leave a review below or PM with your request, and I'll do my best to make it happen!**


	4. The Sorting Ceremony

**Prompt: Minnie's thoughts on the sorting ceremony throughout the years?**

The Sorting Ceremony

Minerva sat in her chair in The Great Hall And watched as first-years were sorted into their houses by the old hat. As head of Gryffindor house for the past eleven years, she made it her duty to get to know each and every student sorted into her house. She enjoyed meeting the sacred 11-year-olds and watching them blossom into the brave adults that would some day take on the world.

She listened to the names called out by Professor Slughorn, whose duty it was as Deputy Headmaster. He continually made it a point to clap louder for those sorted into Slytherin or students with a notable last name, and Professor McGonagall sincerely hoped she was more discreet with her Gryffindors.

The first Gryffindor to be placed in her house wet by the name of Sirius Black. Based on the way he tried moving his head around and actively thinking about asinine topics in attempt to throw off the hat, Minerva knew he was anything but serious. A troublemaker, she'd need to watch out for him. Still, she couldn't deny the completely innocent way he looked when relief washed over his face at the hat's decision.

"Lily Evans," Horace called. A bright looking young witch with fiery red hair and striking green eyes stepped up to the stool. She, unlike many of the other students, didn't look nervous or frightened at all. Minerva knew the girl would go into her house. She was right.

There was something about the look in her eyes that Minerva couldn't shake. They say the eyes are the window to the soul. She wondered what that said about Lily's soul.

"Remus Lupin," he bellowed. Minerva had heard about him. He received "the bite" as a child, and Albus has made sure to make special accommodations for him to be here.

"Gryffindor!" The hat was barely placed on the young boy's head before it came to that conclusion. Makes sense. You'd have to be pretty brave to make it though what he's been through and still maintain that goofy smile.

A few more names were called (Including a roundfaced kid with large front teeth named Peter Pettigrew) before getting to the next notable addition to the house.

"James Potter." A skinny young man with glasses and raven-colored hair stepped up to the hat. She could see from under the tables that another student, who had long black hair and had yet to be sorted, had put his leg out in attempt to trip James. However, the young boy managed to slyly avoid the trap, throwing a small smirk in his direction. _With reflexes like that, he might just make a great new addition to the Quidditch team. _She just hoped he wouldn't be sorted into Slytherin, she'd never find another student to compete.

Her fears were assuaged when he was placed in her own house. Maybe she'd finally be able to get back at the Slytherin team this year.

* * *

Like every year that came before this one, Minerva readied herself for the sorting ceremony. She had triple-checked the names to be read on the list, and everything appeared to be in order. Well, except for the fact that Harry Potter, the boy-who-lived, would finally be sorted in his future house. She was anxious to say the least. While Hogwarts has many famous alumni, never had there been an actual celebrity to enter into his first year. She only hoped the other students didn't make too much of a fuss when it was his turn to be sorted.

Going through the names on the list, she found very few remarkable students to enter her house so far. There was the Longbottom boy, who just a few minutes ago proved his bravery by interrupting her speech and retrieving his lost toad. Not that she had any doubt where he'd be sorted. She was aware of what had happened to his parents, and knew it would take much bravery to be here today. There was a bright young witch with frizzy hair who reminded her a lot of herself, but did not cause as big of a hat stall as she had in her youth. Another Weasley, forcing her to recall just how many boys belonged to the family. And finally, she reached the name she had been dreading.

After just a single moment of hesitation, she said the name "Harry Potter."

She watched him walk up to the podium, and had a brief moment of deja vu. It was his eyes. They were the same as his mothers. She wondered what traits he would take on from each of them.

She had assumed that because both of his parents were Gryffindors, this would be a no-brained for the hat. But it took its time, seeming to be stuck on a decision.

Wondering if the boy would be the next hat stall and give himself even more fame, the hat called out "Gryffindor!" And so it was. Her only hope was the he would have James's sense of humor, but Lily's temperament. She dreaded to think of what another seven years would be like with a mini James wreaking havoc on the school.

* * *

As headmistress of Hogwarts, Minerva wasn't supposed to play favorites. All houses were equal, and there definitely _wasn't _any particular house she favored during Quidditch matches. In any case, she had learned to see sorting rather objectively. She knew her heads of houses were all extremely competent, even if one of them was rather new to this.

Filius has remained head of Ravenclaw for so long, he could handle any troublemaker sent his way. Not that many troublemakers were sorted into his house to begin with.

And while Horace had taken a brief hiatus, his return as head of Slytherin house had been just what the house needed to highlight all the good qualities innately found in Slytherins.

Pomona had been a longtime friend of hers, and put up with no nonsense. Possessing both warmth and a steely quality, she had the perfect blend to keep the Hufflepuffs in line.

And then... there was Potter. After a few years of working in the Auror department, he wrote to her, just as she had to Albus many years ago, if there were any teaching positions available. She immediately offered him the position of Defense Against the Dark Arts professor, and being one of the only Gryffindor teachers, that made him head of house. He had done an amazing job so far, and he managed the position of authority with being a father of three. Of course, it helped that one— now two— of his children went to the school, allowing him to keep a close eye on them.

It was no surprise that his first son James had been sorted into Gryffindor. His parents both belonged to that house, and their parents before that. She suspected everyone in that bloodline for years to come would be sorted into that house.

She sat on her ostentatious throne-like seat and watched as the (now reinstated) Deputy Headmaster Slughorn read the names off the list. Rose Granger-Weasley bot up from her seat next to her cousin, and slowly walked toward the hat. Minerva could see Harry lean ever-so-slightly forward in his seat, very curious as to where she would be placed.

It came as no shock to Minerva that the child landed in Gryffindor. Out of the corner of her eye, she saw Harry give (what he must have thought) was a subtle thumbs up and nod. She should reprimand him for playing favorites, but she also couldn't really blame him. She was proud of Rose too.

"Albus Potter," called Horace. Although she's heard the name hundreds of times over the past few years, it still made her heart skip a beat. Why did Harry have to be so noble and name him after their former headmaster?

He was a small thing. He had definitely inherited his father's height. He looked nervous, but as he walked closer she could see the truth in his eyes; his green, sparkling eyes. Those eyes that had been passed down for generations. Those eyes that made her bend the rules on a daily basis because she could see the good in them.

He sat down, and she expected to hear the announcement that he was in his father's house when suddenly, a string of syllables that sounded so unfamiliar to her rang out from the sorting hat.

"Slytherin!"

Oh. Well that was certainly unexpected. She didn't dare to look at the boy's face, fearing it would be a mask of disappointment.

She took a peek. He (and everyone else in the room for that matter) was staring at his father, who was almost _bursting_ with pride. He looked so damn happy, he didn't even bother trying to hide it. Happy for his son being placed where he fit best. Happy for another house, as they had gained a very powerful and _good_ wizard. Happy because he knew Slytherins got a terrible reputation, and his son would prove them all wrong.

She herself had never clapped harder for a Slytherin in her entire life.

**Have a prompt? Leave a review below or PM with your request, and I'll do my best to make it happen**


	5. Story Time With Grandma Minnie

**Prompt: Grandmother fic with Harry/Hermione's kids?**

**A/N: The story told in italics belongs to J.K. Rowling, and would hopefully ring some bells with some people. Also, to the guest who asked for Harry/Minerva to talk after the battle bc they can't sleep, I actually have another separate story called "Minerva and The Man Who Lived" about that exact topic. Hope you have a look!**

Story Time With Grandma Minnie

Though Minerva had never mastered the art of legilimency, she had a certain intuition that could often tell her what would happen next. What she never could have predicted, however was the knock at her door around 2 AM on this hot summer night. Seeing as there should be no visitors in the castle during this season, she didn't understand the meaning of this or who it could possibly be.

Harry Potter, the last person she would possibly expect, was standing at her door, looking quite frazzled. She failed to notice the three toddlers tacked on to his sides, attempting to climb him like a mountain.

"Harry?" She couldn't help the surprise and tiredness that seemed through her voice. It was at that point she realized she was dressed only in her nightgown, her put in a neat but uncharacteristic braid down her back.

"Hello, Minnie. I'm so, so, _so sorry_ to do this, but I need a personal favor."

Part of her wanted to scold him for showing up unannounced in the middle of the night to ask for a favor. But being as close to him as she was, there was nothing she wouldn't do for him. And he knew that.

"What can I do for you, my boy?" As if he were still the reckless child she once knew.

"Hermione is in labor. Ron And Ginny are already at St. Mungo's with her, and they're expecting me to be there. Is there any way at all you would mind looking after the kids? They're very well behaved, and they'll probably just sleep the whole time." The way the were scaling him like Mt. Greylock indicated otherwise, but she wasn't about to object. "I realize how terribly rude this is, and I promise I would never do this if I had any other option, and I realize what a big inconvenience this must be, and..."

"Take a breath, Harry. I'd be happy to take them."

"And I realize I most definitely woke you up by coming here, but please, please, pl— wait, what?"

"I said I'll look after them. Go. Be with Hermione."

A huge grin spread on his face, and he sprung into action. He handed his two kids, James and Albus, over to her, and got the reluctant Rose to walk over of her own volition.

"I'm so sorry, I didn't bring any of their toys over because I was in such a rush, and..."

"We'll figure something out. This is a castle, for Merlin's sake. There's much to do. Go. Give Hermione my best." He really was the most difficult man.

She watched him give his sons each a kiss on the cheek, and for rose, he reached over and mussed up her hair, much to the two-year-old's dismay. She was giggling though, so this was probably something he did every time he saw her.

She really didn't see why he was so overwhelmed. How difficult could three toddlers be?

* * *

Three hours, Two meltdowns, and one strong invigoration draught later, and Minerva understood why Harry was in the state he was in. The children weren't misbehaved, but she had realized tonight that she had never spent much time with younger children. Having no children of her own, she never fully appreciated how much work it took to look after someone who is fully dependent on you for their every need.

About five minutes after Harry had left. Rose had a meltdown. Minerva could tell she was already a rather finicky child, and being left with a stranger did not sit well with her. Having to think quickly before the boys followed suit, she resorted to bribery. She fell back on the one absolute way she knew would comfort a child of any age.

She offered her a biscuit.

Rose was reluctant at first, but after one bite, she was hooked. Which, of course, prompted the boys to beg for a biscuit of their own. Oh yeah. She was good at this whole babysitting thing.

Her biscuit tray was soon empty, causing the second tantrum of the night. She knew she could just conjure more, or send a house elf to get some, but this was a teachable moment. Everything in moderation.

She distracted the children by improvising.

"Do you want to see a magic trick?" She really hoped this would go over well, because if it didn't, the wails would be ear-piercing. The children all stopped crying and watched with rapt attention.

Minerva transformed before their very eyes, becoming a grey and black cat. Shocked silence greeted her.

Then, suddenly, "KITTY!" And the kids raced towards her, eager to pet her and play with her. Allowing them their fun, she eventually transformed back and got the children to calm down.

She hoped to get them into bed soon, knowing they'd be very difficult for their parents to deal with in the morning if they didn't get any sleep. She transfigured some of her furniture into three tiny beds, and got them ready to go to sleep.

As she was tucking Albus in, she heard James call from across the room, "Grandma Minnie?"

Huh. So _that's_ what Harry's been referring to her as. She hadn't decided if she was insulted to be old enough to fit the title of "grandma" (though she certainly was) or honored to have earned the title that meant so much to the both of them. While they all had Molly and Arthur as grandparents, the boys lacked any paternal grandparents. And she hoped she could fill those shoes.

"Yes, dear?" She answered.

"Could you tell us a bedtime story?"

Hmm. To be honest, she didn't know very many stories by heart, as she had never been in this situation. Still, she's sure she could come up with something.

"Of course, darling." She finished tucking them all in, and sat in a rocking chair (which was another transfigured piece of furniture, to finish the makeshift nursery).

Debating if this was a good idea or not, she decided that this was an important story to tell.

Clearing her throat, she began. "_Mr. and Mrs. Dursley of number four, Privet Drive, were proud to say that they were perfectly normal, thank you very much. They were the last people you'd expect to be involved in anything strange or mysterious, because they just didn't hold with such nonsense."_

It wasn't long before the children fell asleep, leaving Minerva to her thoughts. She thought about if Harry would be mad knowing she told the children a very personal story, but that's what grandmothers are for, right? And it's not as if they were old enough to realize who the story was actually about.

Soon enough, morning arrived, and with it, Harry, to pick up the kids.

As reluctant as they were to stay with her, they were equally as reluctant to leave.

"Dada?" cried Albus in protest.

"Daddy, we want to stay here with Grandma Minnie! Pleeeease?"

"Minnie!" Rose repeated joyfully.

"No no, we have to get back. Because Rosie has a brand new baby brother!"

"But I want to hear more of the story!"

Thankfully, Harry didn't ask Minerva which story that was. She would keep that to herself.

"How about they come back next week? We can tell more of the story then." She suggested.

Story time with Grandma Minnie became a weekly treat, until the children were old enough o attend Hogwarts for themselves, and make their own stories.

_And all was well. _

**Have a prompt? Leave a review below or PM me with your request, and I'll do my best to make it happen.**


	6. Troublemakers

**Prompt: could you do a mama Minnie kinda thing with the marauders? Like her thought process as the marauders explain how 'students aren't allowed out of bed at night but technically levitating the beds means we are NOT out of bed, therefore we are not technically breaking any rules.' (Or them saying : hypothetically, how would one become an animagus? It's for extra credit. So, Minnie, where, hypothetically, could we find mandrake leaves? Minnie, his would you remove antlers from an other persons head? Hypothetically, of course.)**

**A/N: I'm so sorry in advance for the cringe-worthy puns. I couldn't help myself, and they're not even very good puns ;)**

Troublemakers

Any hopes of winning the house cup this year flew out the window when those four troublemakers walked into the her transfigurations classroom for the first time. Never in her life had she seen such disrespect for the school rules by students _on their first day! _For the first time in over three centuries, Gryffindor would be starting off the year with negative house points.

It was the first class of the new term, and she noticed four seats toward the back of the room were empty. After taking a quick attendance, he sighed heavily. _Of course_ students from her own house were late on their first day.

She began her lesson anyway, after sending a quick message to the portraits to be on the lookout for the late arrivals.

About ten minutes into class, three of the four students strolled into her classroom as if nothing was wrong. She'd never seen such audacity in her entire career.

Mr. Lupin, Mr. Black, Mr. Potter... You're ten minutes late!

They stopped in their tracks, and each had a small, sly smile that said _I know something you don't. _

"But Professor," Sirius began. Just then, each of the three boys pulled out an enlarged analog clock. She was positive they must have bribed fourth-years to cast an engorgio charm on them. Whatever they were up to, she didn't have a good feeling about this.

They proceeded to place the clocks on the ground, and each of them stepped up on top of their clocks.

"We're right on time!" They all said it perfectly in unison, so she knew they must have rehearsed it. Considering they were _only_ ten minutes late, McGonagall had the sneaking suspicion that they had been planning this stunt all along, and they actually chose to be late on purpose.

Just then, the chubbier, buck-toothed final member of the group burst in through the doors, slammed his clock on the ground, and screamed "WE'RE RIGHT ON TIME!"

Clearly he hadn't been present for the rehearsal. The members of the original trio sported the same look she probably had on her face right now, indicating to her that it did not go as planned.

In a way, she almost pitied the group. The whole class was laughing, and not in the way they had intended. Still, they had now caused a massive disruption, and she had to do _something_.

"Silence!" Her voice echoed throughout the classroom. The room went deadly quiet, and all eyes turned towards her to see how she was going to handle the situation.

"I am disappointed in all four of you. Five points from Gryffindor."

Really, that was going easy on them.

* * *

The troublemakers had only just started their second year, and they had single-handedly managed to lose the house cup for Gryffindor last year.

And yet, despite the fact that they should have learned their lesson, here they were, caught by a prefect, in the corridors long after curfew.

Even more odd, they had manage to levitate their beds with themselves still inside them. _What in the world were they up to now?_

"Boys! What exactly do you think you are doing? It's well past curfew." For Merlin's sake, they weren't even bothering to be discreet. In fact, quite the opposite. They must know levitating beds are going to turn some heads.

"We're aware, Professor," the Potter boy piped up. "We've broken so many rules, we know them all by heart. And the rules clearly state that students aren't allowed out of bed past curfew."

"Yes. Exactly! So why is it then that you're..." The end of the sentence died on her tongue once she realized her fatal mistake.

The boys had the biggest smirks on their faces as they knew they had won. She made eye contact with each of them and gave her sternest teacher expression.

Truth be told, she couldn't find it in herself to be too mad. That was clever. A small part of her wanted to award house points because that kind of thinking was, in a word, brilliant. But she should also take away house points because they knew what they were doing was skirting the line. In the end, she decided to call it even.

She did her best to maintain her mean face, sighed, and declared, "Back to your dormitories. All of you."

Overjoyed that they had outwitted their own Professor, they gladly complied, laughing the whole way back.

She swore they pulled these pranks just to get a reaction out of her. Unfortunately for her (and the future of this castle) it was working.

* * *

Minerva was ready for the end of the school year, when a group of much-too-confident young boys strolled into her classroom. She mentally went over a list of possibilities as to what it could be this time.

She knew most of her second-year students had just come from Charms class, where they had learned the growing and shrinking spells. Those were particularly difficult charms to master, so it didn't make much sense for that to be the reason. What were they planning?

Potter gave a nod to Sirius, who indicated for Remus to hold up his quill. Sirius whispered "_Diminuendo_" and the quill shrank down in Lupin's hand. From the looks of it, this was Potter's cue to speak.

"Wow. That sure is mini."

They all giggles and snickered, while Pettigrew was basically at a full on howl. She still didn't understand, but chose to ignore them and begin her lesson.

As she walked around and watched her students try to turn a porcupine into a pin cushion, she noticed the exchange happen again. This time, with the porcupine. She watched it shrink down, and Potter began to snicker again.

He pointed to it this time, which also happened to be in her direction across the room, and he joked, "Look, it's mini!"

And in that moment, it clicked. They figured out her first name. Not that she actually went by Minnie nowadays. The only people to ever call her that were her parents and her first love. Even if they were being entirely disrespectful and deserved some sort of punishment, she'd be lying if she said she didn't miss being called Minnie.

She pushed her glasses down past the bridge of her nose to shoot them one of her trademark looks and let them know the jig was up.

Not the worst prank they've ever pulled.

* * *

By their third year, she knew the boys had most definitely continued their antics just to antagonize her. They had even taken to calling her "Minnie" regularly, which would cost them a week's detention each. She was thinking she'd soon have to change that punish though; they were enjoying it far too much. They were also well aware that she was reluctant to give James any detentions, as she didn't want to take her seeker away from practice. Naturally, he became the fall-man for all of their pranks.

It was while they were in detention for their latest shenanigans that James addressed her once again.

"Hey Minnie?" He called with a lilt in his tone.

"You still have one day left of detention, Mr. Potter. Would you like to make it another week?"

"No. Thank you for the offer though, Minnie. I wanted to ask you a serious question."

Deciding to let the whole Minnie thing go because there was simply no winning that battle (and there were no other students present to hear him misbehave), she pressed on. "What is it?"

"How does one become an animagus?"

Oh sweet Merlin no. If those band of hooligans became animagi, they could get away with murder. Hypothetically, she hoped.

Seeing the look on her face, he quickly amended, "It's for extra credit."

She wasn't buying it in the slightest. "Extra credit fir which class?" She stares him down.

"Um... transfigurations?" The boy guessed hopefully.

So, not only did the boy want private instruction on how to become an animagus, which would inevitably lead to more trouble, but he also dared to ask for extra credit?!

He certainly was placed in the right house, because making a bold claim like that right to her face took courage.

"Nice try, Mr. Potter. You're going to have to figure out a more creative excuse."

Just then Sirius burst into the room, took one glance around the room, and decided the information he was about to reveal was safe.

"It's that time again. He's turned."

Seeing as Professor McGonagall had been instrumental in the decision to admit Mr. Lupin into the school, she was aware of exactly what they were talking about. Nevertheless, she chose to play the fool and let them think they had a secret.

James shot her a begging look, silently asking to be done for the day. She nodded to him, indicating that he may go.

Before he walked out the door, she decided to have mercy on him. She had a feeling by the way he asked that they were planning to help their friend, and they'd actually be much safer doing that as animals than as humans. "Potter?"

He stopped dead in his tracks and turned around to face her.

"I can't tell you how to become an animagus." She stated. The look of pure disappointment on his face in contrast to his usual mirthful mood confirmed to her that she was doing the right thing.

"But there may be a book or two in the restricted section that could." She stared down st her desk, refusing to make eye contact while explicitly telling a student to break the rules.

"Students aren't allowed in the restricted section," Sirius recited. Oh good. Another witness.

"That is correct. As I recall, you three seem to be gifted at analyzing semantics. I'm sure you can figure something out."

And with that helpful hint, she marched out of her own classroom, confident they'd figure out a way to get that book. She really did have a soft spot in her heart for them.

* * *

A few months later, she walked into her office to find Black, Pettigrew, and Potter waiting for her. How they got in, she chose not to question. By now she had figured out that with them, it was better to just not ask.

She sighed, sat down at her desk, and rose one eyebrow, indicating for them to just tell her what they wanted. She needn't waste time with pleasantries.

"Professor McGonagall," Black started. Uh oh. If they were addressing her by her proper title, they must be in serious trouble that they need help getting out of. "We were all wondering... where would one acquire mandrake leaves?" He smiled his most charming grin, which may have worked on her if she were a thirteen-year-old girl. Thankfully, she was not, and she could see right through it. They must have found a way to get the book.

"Hypothetically, Of course." He grinned even wider, if that was possible. The two others followed along. Of course, if they were intelligent enough to steal the book without getting caught, they were intelligent enough to know she wasn't buying a word of this hypothetical nonsense. But she now had just as much to lose as they did if they were caught, so she really had no choice but to help them along. Still, she wondered...

"Have you tried asking Professor Slughorn? This seems like it would fall under his department."

They all exchanged a worried look. "Well, we... don't exactly want him to get the wrong idea. Or ask any questions, or..."

"He only gives out ingredients to special students in his Slug Club!" Pettigrew whined.

"That too," James added.

That man was a gifted potions master, but she absolutely could not condone his blatant favoritism and unwillingness to help students in need. And to top it all off, he was making her life a lot harder right now.

"Before the next full moon, check under your pillow." She decided to busy herself with tidying her desk. Mostly so she didn't have to meet the three pairs of bewildered eyes.

"...under our pillows?" Potter asked.

Apparently she needed to make herself more clear. "Yes. Under your pillows. They'll be there."

Black and Potter gasped in understanding of what she was going to do for them. She wasn't even sure herself how she planned to acquire such a rare herb. She'd probably end up pilfering them from Slughorn's supply closet. Well, serves him right. If he didn't choose favorites, she wouldn't have to do this.

The two boys were practically jumping up and down, filled with excitement. "Thank you, thank you, thank you!"

"Do not thank me. I did nothing, understanding? Nothing at all!" She shouted at them.

"Oh, we understand," Sirius said with a completely melodramatic wink. It was no wonder all of the girls fawned over him.

"Let's go!" Potter exclaimed, pulling Pettigrew's hand in tow and dragging him out of the room with them.

As they ran out, she could make out the faintest whisper of "I still don't get it," coming from the Peter boy. She hoped she was making the right call. More than that, she really hoped she wouldn't get caught.

She sat back as she began to think about what her game plan would be. She realized that not only was she starting to like the troublemakers, she was slowly becoming one of them.

* * *

The troublemakers were all in their fifth year, and bigger students meant bigger messes for her to clean up. She had helped them cover up quite a bit over the years, as much as she really knew she shouldn't have. What could she say, they made her laugh.

Lupin certainly didn't look like he was in the laughing mood however, as he stormed into her office after curfew.

"Professor!" He panted, out of breath. He must have ran here. She knew he was on duty as a prefect tonight, so she sprung out of her chair, figuring a student must be hurt or in serious trouble.

"What is it, lupin?" She asked him with genuine concern lacing her voice.

"Um," he still panted, "hypothetically... how would you remove antlers from another persons head?"

"WHAT?" She screamed. Was a student impaled? By what? Why weren't they being sent to Madam Pomfrey?

"No no!" he assured. "Nobody's hurt. We just... uh..."

Still in a full panic, she had no time for this nonsense. "Just what?"

"Well, if someone were to— hypothetically— teach themselves to become an animagus, but they— again, hypothetically— might have done it wrong? And their human form is not quite back to fully human? What would you do? ...Hypothetically."

Thank Merlin they're alright. An incomplete transformation is bad, but not nearly as bad as being impales by something with antlers. Especially on school grounds. She thought about what they must have done wrong. They must have removed the mandrake leaves too early, and grew too eager to see their forms. That was the most common cause.

Annoyed because he had caused her to almost have a heart attack, and because they shouldn't have started this process in the first place if they weren't prepared to see it through, she glared down at him from above the rims of her glasses.

"_Hypothetically," _she repeated, "you should tell him to put the mandrake leaf back in his mouth and wait for the process to actually finish, instead of being an impatient imbecile!" She swore, this would be the last time she helped them out of trouble.

Remus had enough intelligence to look embarrassed for his friend, said a quick "thank you", and walked away.

These kids would be the death of her. But she had to admit, she had a love for the four troublemakers.

**Have a prompt? Leave a review below or PM me with your request, and I'll do my best to make it happen.**


	7. Stuck

**Prompt: Stuck. McGonagall finds Ron Weasley Stuck headfirst in a small secret passageway and wonders about how smart some of her students actually are and if she is actually teaching them properly as she tries to push the boys backside through.**

Stuck

As if rumors of Sirius Black escaping from Azkaban and entering School grounds in search for Harry Potter weren't enough, Professor McGonagall just got word from her head boy that a third-year student managed to get himself stuck in a crawl space on the first floor corridor! She honestly did not have time for this. The school was at risk of closing permanently again for the second time in two years, and she was being bothered about a boy fooling around where he shouldn't be?

Percy came and sought her out shortly after classes had finished for the day. While he was usually eager to bring forth students who had misbehaved, today he was practically fuming with anger over the latest fiasco. Of course she was upset that it had to be one of her students, but really all things considered, this seemed like a minor offense. No need to get his knickers in this much of a twist.

She followed him to a large group of students— mostly Slytherins— had gathered in a semicircle. The first and second-years were all laughing and pointing, while she could hear muffled shouting coming from the other side of the wall. She gently pushed the students aside to better assess the situation.

She could now clearly see why Percy was so enraged. Just from the too-big shoes, hand-me-down robes, and the way he was flailing his legs, she knew without a doubt that this was a Weasley. And she had a pretty good guess as to which one.

She cleared her throat and began to project, "Mr. Weasley."

He continued flailing and yelling without hearing her.

"Mr. Weasley," she tried again, louder. Still no stopping the boy's overdramatic panic.

"MR. WEASLEY!" She shouted as loudly and sternly as she could muster. That seemed to do the trick. Now instead of being scared of the situation, he was scared of her.

She heard what she thought was a muffled "yes?" in his high-pitched, anticipatory frightened voice.

"Would you care to tell me the finer details of how you managed to get yourself foolishly lodged in a crawl space when you should have been in Potions class?" She inquired.

The only answer she received in return was muted nonsense. She'd clearly need to find him a way out before she could receive an explanation. She couldn't possibly wonder what kind of answer would justify this. She couldn't wait to hear him try to tell her a tall tail to brew up less trouble than he was already in. She could understand why Percy had acted the way he did. The other Weasley had managed to create quite a spectacle of himself. Part of her was tempted to leave him there as punishment, and let him find a way to get out of the hole he had dug himself into. But alas, safety of the students came first.

She muttered a quick slippery charm on the boy, expecting him do be able to shimmy his way out quickly. Try as he might, he still wasn't able to wriggle out. To be honest, she didn't understand how he managed to jam himself so far in in the first place. The tiny entryway was only meant for animagi such as herself to be able to move around the castle quicker. It was charmed, as many magical places are, to expand once inside. As it was, the door shouldn't even present itself unless an animagus was present. If it were any other student, she'd suspect he'd have found a clever way to become an unregistered animagus, but she's been grading Weasley's papers for the past three years, and well... That's not something she has to worry about.

What is mildly worrying, however, is that she does know someone else who's an unregistered animagus. And he's the same someone who she's been actively trying to keep out since the beginning of the school year.

Pushing that thought from her mind, she focused on the task at hand. He had begun screaming and kicking again, which caused the surrounding students to create a ruckus. Knowing she had to act quickly, she did the only thing she could think to do, even though she really, _really _didn't want to. She mentally counted to three in her head, and gave his lodged behind one great big push with her foot.

Huh. She's had many moments over the past decade when she's wanted to kick some Weasley ass. She must say, it's not nearly as satisfying as she imagined.

The move caused an uproarious laughter, but she couldn't tell if it was truly because of what just happened, or that the force of it had pushed Weasley through and he fell flat on his face.

She decided she'd deduct house points either way. "Ten points from Slytherin!"

Draco Malfoy looked absolutely outraged. "What? What did we do? We didn't get the stupid oaf stuck! He didn't even need our help doing that," he sneered, causing a few mumbles of concurrence and poorly hidden laughter.

She arched her eyebrow and stared him down. "Would you like to make it fifteen?" She asked.

The laughter completely stopped, and she knew she had won this battle. Still, they made no attempt to walk away or excuse themselves. Growing bored of them staring at her, and knowing she still had a stuck student to attend to, she looked them all over and yelled, "Disperse!" They trudged away dejectedly, their fun being thoroughly ruined.

Knowing the passageway was windy and a bit confusing, she transformed into her cat form, and made her way to guide Mr. Weasley.

She eventually found him and brought him straight to the Gryffindor common room, so he could explain in front of his peers exactly what led him to try and stuff his body into a space it could clearly not fit.

Upon entering, she found his twin brothers in the middle of a laughing fit on the floor, and she assumed Percy must have told them what had happened. His two friends, Potter and Granger, looked genuinely concerned, but once they saw that he was fine, Granger's face twisted up in annoyance and part amazement at his stupidity, while Potter tried to very stoically suppress a laugh.

She turned to the youngest Weasley brother. "Care to explain, now?"

His face was as red as his hair. "Well you see, it wasn't really _my_ fault, not really. See, it was the portraits!" His eyes held a pleading look that she wasn't buying for a second.

"The portraits shoved you into what was supposed to be a very well hidden and very small secret passage that you clearly weren't meant to explore?" she prodded.

"Well, well no. Not exactly. I was on my way to Potions Class, when a few of the portraits were talking about Sirius Black!" She still wasn't following. "Well, I reckon Scabbers must be scared of him, because he jumped right out of my pocket and ran for the crawl space! I couldn't just let him run off like that, what if he got lost or something?" The boy implored with his best story-telling face. "So I dove after him. But Scabbers got away! And I ended up stuck there for nearly an hour! Please Professor, you have to see my side here."

The common room was deathly silent, awaiting her judgment. "Five points will be taken."

"But what for? It was an accident, I swear!" he cried.

She started speaking as she turned and walked toward the portrait hole. "For making me spend my evening searching for your familiar." She didn't await his response.

Of all the things she's done for the Weasleys, going on a literal cat-and-mouse chase has to make the top of the list. What could she say? She's always had a soft spot for mischief-making kind.

**Have a prompt? Leave a review below or PM me with your request, and I'll do my best to make it happen.**


	8. His Most Faithful

**Prompt:** **Role reversal au with Minerva & Dumbledore switching places with Bellatrix and Voldemort. Minerva reunites with Dumbledore after escaping from Azkaban**

His Most Faithful

The boom was so loud, her ears were still ringing by the time she had understood what happened. The wall she had spent fourteen years staring at had been blown to bits. The natural sunlight streaming in was almost too much to bear, even with the complete overcast. She had spent so long in the cold darkness of her cell, she wasn't sure her eyes were working right anymore. Everything is fuzzy. The only thing she knew to be true was that she was free. She just had to make her escape.

Maybe it was the isolation that had impaired her critical thinking skills. Or maybe it was all of her run-ins with the dementors. Perhaps it was simply old age. Nevertheless, she did what she thought to be the only logical thing to do in her situation.

She jumped.

She had the faintest remembrance in her mind that she had no wand, and therefore no way to break her momentum if she happened to miss the water. She couldn't be bothered though. She was flying. She was free.

He fall was broken by a pair of arms in midair. Her eyes had yet to adjust to the blinding light, but she could just barely make out the vision of a long white beard. He must have been an angel. Or maybe... No. It couldn't be. She knew her lord would return to her eventually, and he'd rise to power against all of those goody-goody lighteners who were too filled with cowardice to join the correct side with her master.

The now-unfamiliar pinch and brief suffocation of apparition caught her by surprise. It had been so long. She wanted to be sick, but the only thing she's eaten in the past few days was the remains of a rat that made its way into her cell. She could only imagine how she looked. Emaciated, hair matted, and worst of all, fourteen years older than she was the last time she had been...

Where was she?

It was darker here. Not as dark as her cell, but she was definitely indoors and under very little light. The angel put her down on a comfortable surface, and made his way out of the room. Her vision was slowly coming back, and knew she was on a couch. This must be a house then. It was indeed dark, which worked to her favor. The fact that her vision was coming back also reassured her that no permanent damage had been done.

She recognized the pattern on the carpet. Not only was this a house, but it was a house she's been to countless times. A house where she's had the best experiences of her life. She was at 12 Grimmauld Place. The headquarters for the whole operation.

It was also the home of the ancient and noble house of Black, with Sirius being its sole occupant. After being sorted in Gryffindor, Sirius began to unleash his full potential. He was more brave, more daring, and more courageous than his cowards of a family. They were all too busy in the house of cowards, sucking up to their so-called Lord Voldemort as if he were their personal savior. But Minerva knew who the real savior was. She knew him so well, she could almost hear the sound of his voice in her imagination.

The voice grew in volume and clarity, and that's when she realized none of this was a dream. Her master had really rescued her! He had returned! She would finally see him again.

She felt his presence in the doorway, just staring at her. She rose and turned around, noting indeed that her angel had really been her lord. She tried to bow in reverence, but her weak old bones didn't allow that, and quite nearly toppled over before he was at her side, catching her. She dared a look up to his face. How was it that after fourteen years, he has still managed to retain that mirthful sparkle in his eye?

"Still a bit clumsy, aren't we Minerva?" He jested. Oh, how she missed him. She immediately burst into sobs, unable to contain the emotion rushing through her veins.

She had never given up on him. Never. Even when they had dragged her kicking and screaming off to Azkaban for torturing the Lestranges into insanity, she had never given up. She always knew he would rise again. And that day is today.

Reaching up to caress his magnificent beard, she tried to quell her sobs. There were so many things she wanted to tell him. How hellish Azkaban was, but how she would do it again in a heartbeat for him. How she still remained faithful, despite every other Death Eater turning on him. How they would do wonderfully evil things together, all in the name of his cause.

All she could manage to croak out was a raspy "you came back!"

He laughed. He actually laughed. Was she so completely inarticulate that he was amused? "Yes, Minerva. Just as you always knew I would. Isn't that right?" he speculated. She didn't know if his legilimency skills had improved, or if she were really that obvious. Either way, she was quick to nod in agreement.

"We have so much to catch up on, my dear. But first, I believe an important matter of business is in order. If you would be so kind to accompany me outside?" She didn't understand, but she would do anything he asked blindly.

The sunlight was still harsh, but she could see clearly enough now. He smiled down at her, as if expecting her to know what they were there for. "Would you like to do the honors?" he asked. She brief,y wondered if she hit her head during the explosion, because nothing was making sense. What was she supposed to do?

Probably noticing her confused expression, he amended, "Would you like to cast the dark mark? Let everyone know we're here, and that we're bigger and better than we were before?" The ultimate honor. She wasn't worthy of this. What had she done? What could she have possibly done to deserve this?

"You've always been my most faithful, Minerva. You know the spell." She did. She did know the spell. Just one word, and the dark mark would adorn the sky, instilling fear into all those who dared defy the dark lord.

She took a deep breath, and yelled as loud as she was able, "MORSMORDRE!"

She watched in astonishment, as she always had, of how beautiful his mark was. Yes, this would be a very life, with her at his side. His most faithful.

**Have a prompt? Leave a review below or PM me with your request, and I'll do my best to make it happen.**


	9. Not Enough

**Prompt: Could you do Minerva comforting Harry after the events of 4th year?**

**A/N: Trigger Warning for depressive thoughts and bullying. If this is something you struggle with, consider skipping this chapter or reading with caution. **

Not Enough

Harry sat on the swing set just as he did yesterday, and the day before that. He wasn't able to stand life with his relatives anymore. If he stayed in the house, they'd make him work like a dog, and tell him that despite his best effort, he wasn't doing enough. He could never do enough. As if he didn't already tell himself that exact same thing every moment of every day. No matter what he does, it will never be enough.

He tried to save Cedric. But he wasn't enough.

So he sat. Everyday, he walked to the park, and just sat with his thoughts. Not that his thoughts were pleasant company lately. Still, his thoughts were often nicer to him than his relatives were. And that was really saying something.

He watched children come and go, running around without a card in the world. He watched them play pretend, creating their own adventures in their mind where they would slay a dragon, or reach the farthest depths of the ocean, or try to solve an invisible maze with unfathomable dangers. The reality was a lot less fun than they made it out to be.

He wished he could be as carefree as them. They were having the time of their lives, and here he was, wasting his own.

And to make matters worse, he could see Dudley and his gang of idiots strolling towards him. Once they spotted him, a few cracked their knuckles, ready for Harry Hunting. Honestly, he probably wouldn't even fight back this time. What was the point? Maybe if they got what they wanted they'd just get bored and learn to leave him alone. He wasn't even going to make eye contact this time. Keep his head to the ground, and just let the storm pass.

Dudley was the first one to speak. "Oh, look everyone! It's Harry The Fairy!" The whole gang proceeded to do a mock ballet dance, but the one to Dudley's left tripped over his own stupidity in the process. Harry still refused to lookup, using the last shred of self-preservation he had.

"Say, _Fairy Harry_," the smaller one piped up, "Aren't ya gonna try to sprinkle us with some of your magic fairy dust?" The one who previously fell almost fell again from laughing so hard. Dudley laughed, but Harry could hear his laughter laced with tension, as he knew exactly what Harry's "magic fairy dust" was capable of. And that wasn't a threat Dudley wanted to make.

"What's the matter?" asked the clumsy one. "Aren't gonna make a peep?"

"He sure makes enough noise in his sleep every night," said Dudley, seeming to have found his confidence again. "Moaning for Cedric. Who's Cedric, Potter? Your boyfriend?" The uproarious laughter could be heard from a mile away. Mentioning Cedric was crossing a line. As done as he was with their bullshit, he wasn't going to let them spit on Cedric's freshly dug grave.

"Stop it." He meant for it to come out as a strong warning, but his voice barely traveled a meter.

"What are you gonna do about it?" Dudley emphasized his point by pushing Harry's shoulder, causing the swing to lurch back. Harry slowly reached into his back pocket for his wand. He wasn't planning on using it, not really. But maybe just the sight of it would make Dudley think twice about his actions. As soon as he did however, something happened that Harry could only describe as magical.

A cat seemingly appeared out of thin air right behind the gang and hissed loudly, approaching them slowly as if to size them up. Harry's head shot up when he heard the hiss, although the large bodies of the gang members blocked him from actually seeing the cat. The members behind Dudley startled slightly, but Dudley merely laughed and kicked the cat as far as he could.

They all turned back to Harry and began to close in on him. If they were so cruel to a cat who did nothing to them, he could only imagine what they had in store for him today.

Before his imagination turned into reality, he heard Dudley scream like a young girl. The cat had ran back at him, and its claws were embedded into his calf muscles (or the large amount of fat surrounding his calf muscles rather). He shook his leg in the air, but the cat would not let go. His two lackeys were now slowly backing off, not wanting to be the cat's next victim. Harry couldn't believe his luck. He watched the dance Dudley was engaged in, and committed the look of the cat to memory so he would know to thank it later if they ever crossed paths again.

Then he realized.

He'd know that black and grey cat anywhere. That was the same black and grey cat that would be skulking around the Dursley's house as a kid. The same cat that greeted him as he walked into his first ever Transfigurations class. The same cat that would sit silently in the corridors, waiting for an ignorant student to break the rules. That was Professor McGonagall.

He couldn't believe she was here to begin with, and he really couldn't believe she had come to his rescue. She was still holding on to Dudley's leg, in a move that would most definitely leave a scar. She didn't seem like she was planning on letting up any time soon, so he made the executive decision to get up and gently remove her from his leg. There was a fair amount of blood running down it, but for all the blood Harry had seen in his lifetime, he knew it was just a flesh wound. In fact, had Dudley been at Hogwarts, Madam Pomfrey probably wouldn't administer Essence of Dittany. She'd just wrap some gauze around it and wait for the bleeding to stop. Naturally, Dudley saw the blood and thought he was dying, so he continued to scream all the way home. Harry could still hear him long after he had vanished from his sight.

"You didn't have to do that, you know," Harry told the cat as he sat back down on the swing.

She transformed into the teacher he had grown to admire and looked down at him. "I most certainly did!" Her thick Scottish accent was at full force. "I would've done a lot worse had there not been any witnesses."

Harry almost wanted to chuckle at that. He had so rarely seen his Transfigurations professor angry. He couldn't imagine her breaking any rules, being one of the strictest enforcers. "I thought professors weren't supposed to harm students?" He half-asked.

"Those boys are no students of mine. Had they been, they would be running home with a lot more than a bloody leg." It was in that moment Harry realized just how much his professor cared for him. He couldn't think of another soul who would do something like that for him, save for Ron and Hermione. It felt... good.

He could feel her eyes staring down at him, expecting a response of some kind. He gestured to the swing next to him for her to sit down. She looked at the seat, and briefly reached out to see how it moved. It occurred to Harry that McGonagall had likely never sat on a Muggle swing set before, and didn't know what she was doing. He watched her face grow with trepidation as she gently tried to lower herself onto it while trying to keep it still. Harry wished he could take a picture of her face and keep it forever, because the look of fear was absolutely priceless. It almost made him smile.

She let out a sigh of relief as her bottom hit the seat. She tested out its swinging abilities with a few movements of her feet, and the look of fear changed to a look of delight. She even let out a small giggle, which broke Harry's resolve and made his mouth break into a full toothy smile.

Professor McGonagall confessed, "My, the Wizarding world should really adopt these! It's like being back on a broomstick, but without the broom!" Her tone sounded so delighted that Harry just couldn't help but laugh. She was genuinely enjoying herself, getting to play like a child. He supposed she really didn't have many opportunities to do that anymore.

She slowed her swing down until eventually she reached a full stop. Harry's laughter came to a stop as she did. She looked over at him with much too caring eyes. "Now. Would you like to tell me why you've been sitting here all day by yourself?" Her professional tone was back, though laced with more empathy than Harry had ever heard. He didn't really have a response to that. He settled with a shrug and brought his eyes back to his feet.

He felt her hand reach over the gap between them and touch his shoulder. "Potter," she pleaded. He dared to look back up, and saw her eyes bore into him. "Talk to me," she almost whispered.

Harry took a deep breath as he gathered what he wanted to say. "I guess I'm just still not over it," he confessed. He was going to just leave it at that, but her silence indicated she wanted him to continue. "I couldn't save him. And now Voldemort is back and I feel like I'm..."

She raised her eyebrow, patiently waiting for him to finish his thought.

"I'm never enough."

The look on her face could only be described as befuddled. He knew he shouldn't have said anything. Just as the regret began to wash over him, she spoke. "Harry Potter. You stayed a dragon this year! You managed to save two people instead of one in the Black Lake! You stared down the Dark Lord himself and lived to tell the tale! In what way, might I ask, are you not enough?" She was practically yelling by the end of her inquiry.

"Yeah, but those were all accidents. And they shouldn't have even happened in the first place! I never put my name in that goblet, I didn't want to do any of this. And I certainly didn't want to be faced with the man who murdered my parents, and watch him murder my friend." He didn't realize it, but he was out of breath by the time he had finished his explanation. The grip on his shoulder tightened in a comforting gesture. "And I couldn't save him. I wasn't enough." He felt something wet role down his cheek, and he prayed it was sweat. He really didn't want to cry in front of his professor.

"Harry, look at me," she implored. He did. He knew when he looked up that his eyes were watery, and even though his vision was blurry through the tears, he knew he had never seen such a look on the professor's face. "Nothing you could have done would have saved him. And had you been anyone else, you'd likely have met the same fate. You _are_ enough. They don't call you 'the boy who lived' by coincidence."

"Sometimes I really hate being the boy who lived." His voice was as low as a whisper. He couldn't even believe he had said it.

Her face turned to steel. He decided to amend his statement so she didn't get the wrong idea. "I mean, I'm happy to be alive. It's not that. I just wish I weren't _Harry Potter: The Chosen One_. I sometimes wish I were just Harry."

She began to rub soothing circles on the back of his shoulder. That was probably the most affection any adult had ever shown him. His eyes watered back up. "You've been through things no one should ever have to go through," she began. "And you're right. Life has dealt you an absolutely terrible hand. But _Just Harry_ wouldn't possess the bravery the Harry Potter has. _Just Harry_ wouldn't value his friends the way Harry Potter does. And _Just Harry_ wouldn't have ability to pick himself back up when he gets knocked down. You, Harry James Potter, do." Her throat caught as she spoke his middle name. "And you have the power to put a stop to all of this. You _will_ win this war we're entering some day. Because you're the boy who lived. But more importantly, because you're _you._"

The amount of love she held for him in her eyes was almost too much to bear. She was right though. His status as the chosen one was something to be grateful for, because it made him who he was. And he had the power to end everything for good. He felt lighter. As if the guilt he had been carrying around had flown away with every word being said.

The sun was setting, and he knew he had to be home by sundown, lest he face the wrath of Uncle Vernon. He flashed McGonagall a genuine smile, and got up from his swing. He stood in front of hers and held out his hand for her to take, and he helped her up from hers. She stood and walked him back to his house, her hand on his shoulder the whole time.

As they approached Privet Drive, Harry pulled her in for a hug. She may have been too shocked to respond verbally, but she tightened her grip around him nonetheless. His whispered in her ear, "Thank you for everything." She simply nodded into him, not trusting her voice.

As he turned to walk up his front steps, she called out, "Potter!" He turned around. "You might want to invest in some cat treats. The cousin of yours may know you can't use magic outside of school, but a friendly reminder of your pet cat might do the trick." She threw him a small wink, and just like that, she was back to a cat and prowled off to the nearest apparition point.

Yeah. That would be enough.

He could be enough.

**Have a prompt? Leave a review below or PM me with your request, and I'll do my best to make it happen.**


	10. Stunned

**Prompt: a post order of the phoenix fic after McGonagall gets stunned and she comes back to Hogwarts**

And

**Could you do Minerva in the Hospital Wing and Poppy taking care of her**

And

**MM in hospital after stunning spell**

**A/N: Wow! Three prompts that can be combined into one story! You guys are the best! :)**

Stunned

This is completely, wholly, utterly unnecessary. She had just spent nearly a month in St. Mungo's doing absolutely nothing while her students were in peril. Not only were they under the reign of that ugly militant toad, who was the reason she ended up there in the first place, but after reading today's _Daily Prophet_, she had learned that her own Gryffindors who involved themselves in the DA narrowly escaped death. If she's being honest, she's probably in better shape than they are right now. She is _fine, _which is while it's incredibly unnecessary that she stay in the Hogwarts Infirmary until further notice. So, as Poppy puts it, she can "make sure you aren't overexerting yourself".

What a ridiculous notion. Overexerting herself. It would take more than a few little stunning spells to keep her down. She's Minerva McGonagall: Deputy Headmistress. She out of anybody should have the authority to say whether or not she's free to go.

Well, except for the actual Headmaster, who (after being reinstated) explicitly instructed Poppy to detain her at all costs for her to recover. But she had recovered! In the hospital! Which is why it's a complete waste of time and manpower to have her lying here like a flobberworm. Her only consolation is that the term would soon end and all students will go home for the summer holidays. Not that she didn't love each and every one of them, of course, but it wouldn't do to see their transfigurations professor and Head of House completely immobilized as if she didn't have working legs.

She can't even believe how proud of them she is. Facing You-Know-Who head on, battling Death Eaters... True Gryffindors, all of them. Even the ones that weren't in her house, like that quirky Ravenclaw girl, Luna. They all showed such great bravery, and continue to do so every day.

Especially Potter, who's been through hell and back and still manages a smile whenever she sees him. Minerva was devastated to read about the death of Sirius Black. Despite his penchant for trouble, he was one of her favorite students. And she knew how much he meant to Potter.

"How's my favorite patient doing?" asked Madam Pomfrey, thankfully interrupting her ever-darkening thoughts.

"I'd be a lot better if I weren't here," she stated plainly. No point in sugar-coating around Poppy. That woman has seen her at her best, and she's certainly seen her at her worst.

"Hush now, you get an hour a day to roam about the castle as you please with your walking stick, a privilege I don't even allow students, and you're being taken care of by one of the best healers in the Wizarding world!"

"Oh? And who might that be?" Normally she wouldn't joke around like this with just anybody, but she's known Poppy for years and knows that they have the same sense of humor. And, as much as she hates admit it, she's getting really bored just laying here.

"Me. Which is why I know what's best for you, and I won't bow down to any of your complaints. You can shoot me that look all you want, you're not leaving this bed any more than you already do." Minerva didn't even realize she was making a face, but the news hardly surprised her.

She had the brief thought that she could sneak out in her animagus form, but surely Poppy would notice the empty bed. And she doesn't want to injure herself any further. Not that she's injured now, of course. Because she's _fine_.

"And don't even think about transforming into your cat form. I can't even condone a summoning charm for you right now, let alone magic as complicated as advanced transfigurations, no matter how skilled you may be."

_Bugger. _If she didn't know any better, she'd guess the healer is also a legilimens. Years of friendship allows for a certain level of knowing what the person will say or do next, she supposes. "Am I at least allowed to go for my daily walk?"

"Well actually, I have some rather persistent students of a certain house who have been waiting outside the door for the better part of the day. Word must have gotten out that you're back."

At that news, Minerva felt conflicted. She's glad Poppy is loyal enough to protect her privacy and not allow them in, but she misses her little lions and is touched beyond measure that they spent their day standing around instead of enjoying the sunshine. She certainly couldn't deny them entry after that.

She wants to conjure a mirror and maybe cast a quick glamour to make sure she looks presentable for them, but she knows Poppy would kill her for breaking her "no magic" rule. Poppy, always one step ahead of her, was quick to see her dilemma and cast the glamour for her. Poppy sent a small wink her way, and walked to the door, probably about to lecture the children on all of her unnecessary self-imposed rules.

It was almost ten minutes before the doors burst open, and a gaggle of Gryffindors ran towards her at full speed, yelling "Professor! Professor!" They all stop short before they run into the bed, except for Mr. Longbottom, who lost his footing and fell flat onto her lap. On any other day she'd be annoyed by his lack of carefulness, but she couldn't bring herself to care. They were excited to see her, and she was excited to see them. There had to be at least fifty children standing in front of her, spanning across all years. She's beyond touched that they all care this much about her.

"Hello Professor. How are you feeling?" Granger asked barely a over a whisper.

"I'm perfectly well, thank you Miss Granger. You certainly don't have to whisper, I'm not infirmed." As if having dozens of students stampeding her isn't a disturbance, but the normal tone of Granger's voice is.

"Well, you are in the infirmar— Oof!" The youngest Mr. Weasley took an elbow in the ribs from Granger, who knows enough to not cross her. "I mean, you look great!" he amended, while rubbing the bruise that was no doubt forming on his side.

Before she could thank him for that reluctant and slightly forced compliment, Dennis Creevey shouted, "Is it true that you took FOUR stunning spells, right to the chest?!"

"I suppose I have to clear up the rumours now. Yes, it is true, and yes, I'm fine now. I assure you all, I will be back to teaching and taking away house points before you know it." She sent a subtle wink their way to let them know she's at least half-kidding. Kind of.

"Professor..." interjected a seventh year. "We all got you something. It's a bit of a 'get well soon' present." She could see students being gently pushed out of the way as someone made their way to the front. Harry Potter stood at her bedside, holding something behind his back, a small smile on his face. She wasn't sure he if would resume term given everything that happened.

The students are all looking at her and each other in quiet anticipation. She says a silent prayer that it's not a Weasley product.

In his hands, Harry holds a small lion plush toy, with fur of red and gold. Upon further inspection, the object appears to be charmed, prancing around in Potter's hands and making tiny roars.

It is, perhaps, the sweetest gift she's ever received.

She held out her hands to take the lion, watching it roam around playfully on her lap. It looked her straight in the eye, and let out an affectionate "_meow!" _and licked her hand with its fabric tongue. For the second time this month, she's stunned. Only this time it's in a figurative sense.

She will not cry. She _will not cry. _The quiver in her lip is just from the slight dehydration. Certainly not the telltale sign of oncoming tears.

"We, uh... we may have asked Professor Flitwick for some help with the spellwork," Potter said sheepishly. He could likely tell her emotional battle and was trying to defuse the situation.

"You'll have to thank him for me," she requested. "Because this is absolutely perfect. Thank you all." She hopes her voice doesn't sound as emotional as she feels.

"Of course, Professor," promised Potter.

Poppy, who had been not-so-slyly watching the whole interaction, felt it was time to interrupt. "Alright, lions, Professor McGonagall needs her rest. You're all welcome to come back tomorrow." She watched them file out slowly, starting with those from the back of the group. Since Potter is right by her side, she knows he will be the last one to make it out.

She had already awarded Gryffindor over 250 points for the bravery exhibited at the Department of Mysteries, and told them how thankful she was for all of their service. Still, she feels like she has more gratitude to show.

Without thinking too much about it, she reaches out her hand to grab Potter's and hold him back for a moment. The plush lion had fallen asleep on her lap, and she has no idea how to tell him how much this small gesture means to her.

"Potter. I know how difficult this past year has been for you. And Merlin knows there will be more difficult times ahead. But I just wanted you to know how proud I am to have you as a student, and to call you a Gryffindor. You are probably the most deserving of that title out of any student who has walked through these halls." She watched the blush spread on his cheeks.

"You stood up for Hagrid, and put yourself in danger when you didn't have to. You're just as deserving, Professor." She doesn't know what to say to that, so she gives his hand a tight squeeze, and let him go on his way.

Later that night, as she pets her new fluffy companion, she reminds her self how lucky she was all those years ago to be placed in Gryffindor. Her students all were, for lack of a better term, quite stunning.

**A/N: I tried to write more in present tense this time, as i know writing in past tense can make the writing weaker. What do you think? Good? Bad? Really bad? Any feedback is much appreciated, as i joined FF to work on my writing skills.**

**Have a prompt? Leave a review below or PM me your request, and I'll do my best to make it happen.**


	11. Casually Addicted

**Prompt: I have read some fanfics that feature Minerva being a smoker, so how about Minerva sometimes having cigarettes over the years and finally deciding to quit after the Battle Of Hogwarts?**

**A/N: Just to be clear, I'm not trying to promote or glamorize smoking in any way. In fact, just the opposite. Don't smoke, kids! It's super addictive and leads to cancer. **

Casually Addicted

Minerva stood by her the open window of her old office, watching the rebuilding take place on the decimated Quidditch pitch. The stands were coming along nicely, but it would take at least a year for any grass to grow on the field, even with the help of Professor Sprout. A giant crater overtook the center of the oval, and it almost looked as if parts of the stands were still on fire, despite it being weeks since the actual battle.

Minerva took a big inhale from her cigarette and blew more smoke in the direction of the window. Half the school was already covered in smoke, so what difference did her tiny cigarette make?

She wouldn't really call herself a smoker per se; she'd only partake when particularly stressed. She'd gotten into the habit over the years, especially since the return of Voldemort. It used to be just one or two in a moment of need, but it slowly increased to three four, five, until she lost count of how many she'd had in a day.

She picked up the habit shortly after her eighteenth birthday. Dougal McGregor, Who she fancied to be the love of her life, handed her one before leaning in and bring the lighter up to her mouth. She coughed and coughed at the time, unable to cast an _anapneo_ charm due to him being a muggle. He laughed as if she was the funniest being to walk the earth, which made her laugh too and she took another puff. He'd always supplied her with them and lit them for her in the most romantic way, making sure she never ran out.

But as fun as his muggle customs were, they weren't worth giving up her magic like her mother did for her father.

So she ended the relationship after a broken engagement and forced herself to quit. She didn't need any muggle releases. She had magic. It wasn't too hard really; she only smoked around him. Cutting him out of her life meant cutting cigarettes out too. She'd eventually caved during her time working at the Ministry, when sexism and anti-muggle biases brought by her male coworkers dug at her. They could be so bloody ignorant when they refused to locate their heads from out of their arses. She was a half-blood, and the best transfigurations student Hogwarts had ever seen in a century. She was a woman, and did the job as well— nay, better— than they did. She just couldn't understand why they chose to live in the dark ages rather than open their eyes and see that she was just as capable as anybody else in the entire Ministry.

So she'd picked up the muggle habit again (and made sure her coworkers all saw), just to annoy them. And because the work was stressful enough without the odds already stacked against her. She'd even taken to using a muggle lighter rather than magic to light it, in a silent protest that muggles could do things just as well as witches and wizards could. Her boss Elphin even joined in at one point, despite his distaste for the habit.

Once she started teaching at Hogwarts she quit again, as she wouldn't dare let a student catch her smoking. She had to remain professional, and she knew they'd respect her less if they saw. She figured she had quit for good when her mother informed her that her ex-lover Dougal had moved on and married someone else. The burn in her chest that the cigarettes provided was nothing compared to the way her heart was already on fire. She smoked to feel close to him, to hold on to the last part of him she had. It was also at that point that Albus had caught her in her office, lit cigarette in her hand by her window, just as she was now. He didn't denounce the behavior, but he also didn't look too pleased at what she was doing to herself.

She'd only had the one cigarette, and didn't touch them again due to her newfound respect for her transfigurations teacher and colleague. That is, until the war started and Dougal was murdered along with her brother. She couldn't stop at that point even if she wanted to, which she most certainly didn't. She never really got over Dougal, and the cigarettes she bought from the muggle shop outside of Hogsmead was all she had left of him.

Potter had seemingly defeated Voldemort (for the first time), and she felt like that was a reason to cut back. She never fully stopped again, whipping one out of the packet after work every time her students would be particularly troublesome or Peeves would get in her way. She didn't even quit after marrying Elphin, she simply hid it from him with the intent to never let him find out.

He never did find out, to his dying day, three years after tying the knot.

So here she was, standing by her open window, feeling the familiar fire in her lungs. Though it burned, at least she felt _something_. So many friends died in The Battle Of Hogwarts, that her whole body almost felt numb. Numb to death, numb to pain. The only part of her that wasn't numb, the only part she could control, was her lungs. The repetitive motion of the inhale and exhale reminded her she was still alive, still breathing. That was more than most who fought in the battle could say.

"Professor, are you smoking?" came the shocked voice of a student from behind her. She herself was caught so unaware that she startled badly, dropping the cigarette out the window by accident. Not that it really mattered anyway, there was still so much cleanup to be done that her small addition would make no difference.

She turned around to see Potter staring at her with a look of indignant self-righteousness, and she couldn't say she blamed him. So many had sacrificed their lives, and here she was, willingly shortening hers.

She decided to make light of the situation. "Not anymore," she replied with a lilt in her voice. "What can I do for you Mr. Potter?"

"I was actually just passing through, when I saw your door was open. Figured you might like a chat?" As much as she loathed the idea of her former student being the one to comfort her instead of the other way around, she had to admit the offer sounded appealing.

Still trying to turn the conversation around on him, she airily replied, "Of course, my boy. What is it you wish to speak to me about?"

"How long have you smoked?" his quick answer came. She'd give him points for bravery if he were still in her house.

"I don't, really." Being vague was her best course of option. She wouldn't lie, she never lie to him especially, but she figured half-truths weren't off-limits. "It's just an occasional indulgence I allow myself. I certainly don't make a habit of it or anything." So much for not lying.

"Hmm. Is that why you have three empty packets sitting in your rubbish bin?"

Shit. Why didn't she think to cast a quick _evanesco _rather than throwing them in the bin? If there was anything she learned from her time at the Ministry, it was to vanish the evidence!

She couldn't play daft any longer. He was too clever. "Yes, well perhaps it was occasional before, but in light of recent events, It's become a more of a problem."

She didn't know if it was the sentiment or if she had a positively dismal expression, but the boy took pity in her. "It's rather understandable. You've been put in charge of everybody and you have a million tasks on your plate. It must be stressful," he consoled.

She hadn't even thought of that. She was their leader now. She was the woman they were all looking towards to guide them. She was supposed to have a grand plan in place for getting their lives back on track.

And she had no idea what the bloody hell she was doing.

She moved over to her desk and opened the top drawer. She extracted a cigarette from the pack, but a hand reached across the expanse of the desk to stop her from bringing it to her lips. She suddenly felt so guilty. She was about to do this in front of a student! A former student, but still. And Potter no less, who had been through more hell than any of them combined.

He looked her straight in the eye, and told her, "You don't need that."

She wished she could agree, and she really didn't want him seeing her weakness, but... "I'm afraid at this point I do." She couldn't stop.

He shook his head, and made his way around the desk to grab the remaining packet and place it out of her reach.

She could cast a summoning charm. If she had to. Which she doesn't.

Potter took a seat in of the chairs in front of the desk, and she did the same. He looked as if he wanted to say something, but couldn't find the words.

"I take draughts of dreamless sleep," he confessed. She wasn't expecting him to say that, but she supposed any subject is better than the one they were on.

"That's completely understandable, and while it can be potent, the ingredients aren't particularly danger—"

"Every night," he interrupted.

Oh. That's a much different story. While imbibing one draught of dreamless sleep is harmless, doing so every night could have catastrophic consequences. They hindered magical ability over time, and could cause serious health problems with the liver and brain. And the valerian root used in the potion was known to have addictive properties.

"I assume I don't need to give you a lecture as to why that is extremely unwise?"

"I know. I started taking it just occasionally to try and keep the night visions away. But after the battle I started taking it every night so I would stop seeing all of my friends die every time I close my eyes. And now I can't stop. Hermione used to brew it for me, but even she could see it was becoming a problem and she refused. So I learned to brew it myself. And being able to brew it myself means temptation to mess with the recipe, like adding slightly more valerian root than I probably should."

She didn't know what to say to that. They boy was seventeen, he shouldn't be killing himself like this. "I really wish you wouldn't," she said, as if that was a significant enough response to the confessional he just provided her.

"I wish you wouldn't smoke, Professor." What a quick wit he had. It almost rivaled her own. She knew there was a reason she'd begun to like him as an actual friend rather than just another student.

She looked him in the eye, and smiled for the first time since this whole chaos began. "How's about we make ourselves a deal. I'll give you all of the cigarettes I have left and you'll vanish them for me. And in return, you'll give me all of the remaining draughts you've made, AND any lavender or valerian root in your possession, and I'll keep them safe in case you find yourself in dire need. We'll start from there. Is that a deal, Mr. Potter?"

The man in front of her took a second to mull it over, and when he looked back up at her, his face held a tiny smile. "Deal."

She handed over every last cigarette, even the ones she hid in her cloak pocket in case she ever found herself desperate. And later that day, he returned with a cauldron full of the potion, as well as bushels of ingredients. She portioned out the potion into small phials, each with less and less potion inside. She explained to him, "If you ever feel like the dreams get to be too much, or you feel the withdrawal symptoms setting in, I want you to come to me and I'll give you a small dose of the potion. That way we can wean you off of it slowly. Understand?"

"Professor, it will likely be in the middle of the night when I need it."

"I don't care," she told him. "I want you to come here and wake me, no matter what time it is, and I will dose you properly. This part of the deal is not up for discussion."

She caught a glimpse of the small smile he wore before she exited the castle and made her way to the grounds. She took a large breath in and felt the crisp air cleanse her lungs. It was a new beginning, for both of them. And she wasn't going to smoke another cigarette if it was the las thing she did. After all, she now had a reason to want to live longer. She was going to make sure he kept up his end of the deal, because he deserved a long and happy life more than anybody.

**Have a prompt? Leave a review below or PM me with your request, and I'll do my best to make it happen.**


	12. Beezorp-Infested Biscuits

**Prompt: Perhaps do a moment between Minerva and the Silver trio(Ginny, Luna, Neville) set in 7th year**

**A/N: Sorry for the mini delay in updating! With the new term starting, I've been slammed with schoolwork. But my goal is to update at least once a week, if not twice. Thanks for understanding!**

Beezorp-Infested Biscuits

A dark pall had been cast of the school, and she didn't just mean literally.

While the pinnacle of the war was on the horizon, Minerva could understand the somber attitude taken up by most of the students. She herself was trying her hardest to remain optimistic, if for nothing else but to put up a front for the students, but it was draining her. Everyday she could feel her mood decay little by little, and the fleeting thought occurred to her that that's exactly how _He_ wants them to feel.

So she made a decision. She would grin and bear it. Because the alternative looks a hell of a lot like giving up, and Minerva McGonagall is anything but a quitter. Even when one of her own students usurps her rightful place as headmaster that she had worked tirelessly for _forty-one years_ to assume. And even when that former student. Was working for evil incarnate and treated the entire student body like child soldiers fighting for the wrong side. She would grin and bear it.

She'd thought about quitting almost every day since Albus died. Why would she work under a man who killed her former mentor and closest confidant? Why should she stand by idly and take orders from the traitorous snake?

But then she thought about her students. What would happen to them if she left? Half the staff had either been sacked or quit before he'd gotten the chance, so what adult allies would the children have? Who would protect Hogwarts if she were to leave? And most of all, where would she go? Hogwarts was and forever will be her home. She grew up here. She matured here. She became an adult here. And if it really came down to it, she was willing to die here for a cause she fully believed in. So she'd keep her head down. Pretend to not see things that she clearly saw. Ignore the large flashing warning signs that danger is ahead in order to keep her job. Because she was much more useful to the children here than if she were to join the order full time and fight with them elsewhere.

But there were some things she just couldn't ignore.

It all started when she was teaching her NEWT class at the end of the day. It was subtle, but after working with the same students for six of seven years, she had begun to learn their mannerisms fairly well. And something was... off. Luna Lovegood, who would either stare at her with rapt attention or be doodling on a noteless piece of parchment (there was never any in-between with that girl) was looking a bit dejectedly at the floor. For once, she was neither focused nor had her head in clouds, she was just deeply pensive.

Then the next class, Miss Weasley was clenching her jaw and grinding her teeth so much, Minerva feared they would turn to dust. She gripped her quill a bit too tightly and ink bled through the parchment she was taking notes on due to the pressure with which she wrote.

The final straw though, the one that really made her open her eyes to glaring sirens of alarm, was Mr. Longbottom. He had been slightly quiet for the past week, not offering any answers or participating in class. Minerva thought nothing of it until it was time to practice the bird-conjuring charm, and she instructed the class to attempt it on their own. She paced around the room, monitoring the progress of all of her students. Neville Longbottom's wand hand was shaking so much, she was amazed he didn't drop his wand altogether. But it didn't look like it was out of carelessness. Longbottom was never the type to slack off. He always took great pride in his work, and made substantial effort in class, especially when it came to a spell or concept he was struggling with.

Then she saw it. The ever-so-slight twitch of his fingers, the completely involuntary muscle spasms in his wrist. The way the veins in his forearm popped out with their blue-ish color. The pale white of his fingernails. The signs alone wouldn't have made her take a second glance, but together...

She walked over to his desk and said, in the nicest tone she could possibly muster while hiding her anger, "See me after class, Longbottom." It wasn't as if she was angry at him. On the contrary. It wasn't his fault at all. But she was going to find out who's fault it was, and she was going to make them pay dearly.

Nobody puts a student of hers under the Cruciatus Curse. Especially not on school grounds.

At her request, Neville gave an absolutely terrified expression. "You're not in trouble," she added. That made him relax a bit, but he still looked so nervous. "You may bring along Miss Weasley and Miss Lovegood if you wish." That seemed to put him almost coat ease.

Soon enough, class ended, and she made herself comfortable at her desk and conjured three chairs on the other side for the trio. She made herself busy shuffling papers while waiting for them to approach her, mostly to give her hands something to do. She could see out of her periphery Weasley placing a comforting hand on Neville's shoulder, which caused him to shudder. She whispered something in his ear, and the three made their way to the front of the class. Minerva finished organizing her papers and gestured for the to sit.

She had had many unfortunate discussions with students over the years, but she still had no idea how to start this one. She had to break out her old reliable tricks. She reached for the tin container on the inside of the second desk drawer and held it open in front of them. "Biscuit?"

Her offer evoked a smile from Miss Lovegood, making her realize that was the first smile she had seen from the child in weeks. Luna reached into the tin and grabbed one without reserve, and the other two reluctantly followed. The three munched on the sweets in silence, still unsure as to why they were here.

Minerva rose from her desk and made her way to the classroom door, closing it and casting a quick silencing charm on the room, to ensure nobody from the outside would hear what was being said.

She sat back down at the desk and looked Longbottom in the eye. No point in beating around the bush. "Mr. Longbottom, would you care to tell me why you had difficulty in class today?" She asked him in the nicest voice she could, but she knew some of her frustration seeped through. She didn't want him to think for a second that she was frustrated at him, but damnit, she was so frustrated at the situation that she couldn't help but exhibit it in her tone.

Longbottom looked nervous as ever as he tried to think up an excuse. "I'm just really not good at the bird-conjuring spell?" He asked more than told.

She sent him her best _I'm not buy it_ glare, and left the tin of biscuits on the desk, leaving an open invitation for any of them to take as many as the want. "Alright, fine. I'm distracted by my other classes. Those NEWTs aren't going to take themselves," he tried again.

Luna took another biscuit and inspected it thoroughly before popping it into her mouth. Ginny kept her eyes trained on her lap. "Why, may I ask, do you exhibit all the signs of someone who has been tortured? And not just by the boredom my class provides?" Minerva hoped a bit of levity would goad the answer out of him.

His eyes snapped to hers, and did Ginny's. Luna looked at the two airily while munching. "Well, if all the signs point it something, it must be true," Luna deduced.

"What do you mean, _it must be true_? You were there with us!" Ginny frustratedly exclaimed.

"Oh, I know," Luna replied without any acknowledgement of Ginny's tone. "I was just admiring Professor McGonagall's observational skills. She's quite perceptive, despite serving us biscuits with Beezorps on them."

Minerva didn't know whether to comment on the strange backhanded compliment or to question whatever the hell she thought a Beezorp was, so she chose to ignore the quirky child and focus on the Miss Weasley's comment instead. "Where were you three when the incident occurred?" she asked calmly.

Ginny looked to Neville for permission to speak, and at his slight shrug, she began her explanation. "Professor Carrow asked to see us after Defense class. Said it was an order from the headmaster. He brought us up to his office, where _both _of the Carrows and Snaps were waiting. The Alecto asked which one of us was the weakest, and then before we could stop him, Amycus tied Neville to a chair with the Incarcerous spell. Amycus held his wand pointed at Neville while Snape began to ask us questions about Harry." Ginny recounted. "For any question we refused to answer, Neville would endure a few seconds of the Cruciatus Curse. For any wrong answers or, as Snape put it, 'Luna's smart-mouthed sass', he'd have Professor Carrow use Neville as a training dummy for the dark arts. We hadn't even heard of most of the spells he used."

This was even worse than Minerva feared. "And Luna wasn't even sassing him! In fact, she was was just giving him compliments the whole time!"

"I figured the reason he's always so grouchy is because nobody pays him any compliments. So maybe if I told him everything good I see in him, he'd stop the torture and let us go." Her brow furrowed. "I think it just made him even more angry though."

She knew their teaching skills were far below satisfactory, and even had her suspicions of them being Death Eaters, but... she never imagined this. To place a student under one of the worst curses imaginable in an interrogation to search for another student...

Her mind was reeling from this new information. And Longbottom of all students! All of the staff knew his home situation. They were informed of what happened to his parents. How dare they put this bright, innocent young boy under the same torture that took away his parents.

And the emotional torture the other two must have gone through. Having to choose between giving up Potter or watching their friend be tortured. Having to lie or distract that vile man in attempt to make it stop. These three children deserved so much better. But first she needed to know what information they may have given up. "Did you tell them where Potter is?"

"As if! Even if we did know, we'd never give him up. We'd die if we had to," Ginny exclaimed.

"There will be absolutely no talk of students dying in my classroom," she admonished gently. Minerva grabbed Longbottom's hand that was jittering on the desk and held it in hers. "How are you, Mr. Longbottom?"

"Fine, considering. I think it's still the shock of it all. This is the fifth time it's happened and I'm still not quite used to it," he managed to eek out. Five times! This had been going on right under her nose and she had blatantly ignored the signs! Unacceptable.

The need for revenge burned within her like an inferno. She wanted to give that traitor and his two lackeys a piece of her mind. Damn the consequences. She'd lose her job with a smile if it meant justice for these three students. Nobody should withstand the Cruciatus Curse, let alone children who are sent to this school without parental supervision. Their parents are trusting these teachers to look after them while they're here, and they were failing. And she was a part of the problem.

But revenge could wait. Oh, she'd get it eventually. She'd make sure of it. But all good things come to those who wait. And right now, her students needed her. "Have you seen Madam Pomfrey?" Neville shook his head. She inspected the hand she held for any further signs of damage. Aside from the tremors and pallor, there appeared to be no outward signs of damage. Not much could be done to alleviate the effects of the Cruciatus Curse, but if he'd sustained any injuries from it, she would be able to fix that.

"And you two? Are you in good heath?"

"Quite. Although, now that I think about it, I really could use some Wiggenweld potion to help digest the Beezorps. Did you know they can nest in your stomach and eat all of your ingested food before you can digest it?" A short, confused silence followed her declaration. Minerva looked to the other two for a silent explanation, but they seemed to be just as confused as she was.

"I'll be sure to procure some for you," Minerva placated. "In the meantime, I insist that you all are escorted to and from Defense class. You are not to roam the halls in that time unescorted."

"But—" Longbottom tried to interrupt.

"I'll be waiting outside the classroom in my animagus form to take you from that classroom to my class. If Professor Carrow wants to bring you to Professor Snape's office again, he'll have to contend with me. Are we clear?" The students nodded in stunned silence. "And if there are any similar incidents in the future, I want you to find me as soon as possible and notify me." She packed her Beezorp-infested biscuits back into her desk drawer and made a move to stand up, indicating that that was the end of the discussion. No room for argument.

The students followed, set to move to their respective common rooms.

Before they parted ways, she hollered, "If any of you feel the need to talk about this, or anything else, my office door is always open." She smiled and sent a quick wink their way, then promptly turned into her cat form and made her way to her office. Good things come to those who wait, and she was willing to wait as long as she had to to get her revenge.

**Have a prompt? Leave a review below or PM me with your request, and I'll do my best to make it happen.**


	13. Hell To Pay

**Prompt: Minerva learning about what happens to Harry during Umbridge's detentions and confronts her and comforts Harry.**

And

**McGonagall finds out about the blood quill**

**A/N: I made Harry stay on the Quidditch team a bit longer for this set-up. **

Hell To Pay

The Quidditch match against Ravenclaw was shaping up to be quite a lively one. Gryffindor was behind by 30 points, but there was still a little less than half of the game to get through. Due to the Triwizard Tournament cancelling quidditch last year, Minerva was even more eager to win now more than ever before. Well, maybe not as much as when she was an actual player, but still. Her house needed the win. And what a great way to bring spirits up now that you-know-who is back by having a shiny new Quidditch Cup in her office.

Angelina Johnson got the Quaffle past Ravenclaw's keeper, earning Gryffindor another ten points. At this rate, they would be ahead by no time.

"That's another ten points for Gryffindor by the lovely, quite _agile_ Angelina Johnson." Announced Lee Jordan. She was seriously going to need to speak to him about what is appropriate and not appropriate to say in front of an audience.

"Seeker Potter looks like he's onto something! He makes the dive..." She, like the rest of the audience, watched with rapt attention as Potter gripped his broom tightly in his hands and performed a very impressive dive. She couldn't see the Snitch herself, but she knew he must have, as he flew with such gusto. She saw a glimpse of gold fly upwards, and Potter followed close behind, reaching up with his right hand. He was so close, and...

_Yes_! Wait, no! "Oooh looks like Potter caught the Snitch, then dropped it! We're going to have to take a time out and check the rule books on this one, folks!" Jordan commentated.

As the players all swooped down to land on the field, Minerva sat in shock at what she just saw. Potter's the best Seeker Gryffindor has had in the past century! This was completely unlike him. She watched as he clutched the broom handle tightly with his left hand, holding the right one under his arm, and met the rest of his team on the field. She could only imagine what explanation he could come up with for his bizarre mistake. The Ravenclaw team was eagerly awaiting the call. She had to admit, even being the rabid Quidditch fan she was, she was really unsure of the protocol in this situation.

"Aaaaand the catch doesn't count! No points for Gryffindor. The game is set to continue!"

Damn. She couldn't say she was really upset with Potter; mistakes happen. Even he is fallible. But that didn't mean she wouldn't be subtly watching Gryffindor's next practice from her office window to make sure he was trying his hardest. She knew what he was capable of. She bought him his first broom out of her own pocket because even in his first year, she had seen the potential in him.

It wasn't long until Miss Chang caught the Snitch instead (and held onto it this time), causing them to lose. The whole Gryffindor team looked as if they'd lost a major war. They still had a chance to make it to The Cup, but she understood the sentiment of defeat. She watched as they all headed to the changing rooms, Potter hanging back by a few feet, clearly not wanting to face the rest of his team. His face looked as if he was punishing himself more than his team would.

As the crowd dispersed, Minerva made her way down the stands to have a word with him. He was clearly upset, and she wanted to let him know that despite this game, he was still one of the best Seekers she had ever seen in her lifetime.

"Mr. Potter," she called from a distance. He looked up from where his shoes were digging a hole in the earth to meet her eyes, an excuse already on his lips.

"Professor, I'm so sorry! I—" she cut him off.

"You don't have to explain yourself, Mr. Potter. I just came here to tell you that no matter what your teammates may say in there, you've still got a better record than most professional Seekers, and that's nothing to scoff at. Remember that." She noticed now that he was closer to her that his right hand, the one he'd tried and failed to hold onto the Snitch with, was wrapped in gauze. _Of course_, he'd managed to injure himself before a match. That boy had nothing but convenient timing when it came to acquiring injuries. She wasn't going to ask how he'd managed to do it, because knowing him, it most likely involved breaking about a dozen school rules. Plausible deniability was her friend. She didn't want to know. "And if you haven't already, do get that hand looked at by Madam Pomfrey," she scolded. And with that, she turned around and made her way up to her office to finish grading second-year essays. The match with Slytherin was coming up in a few weeks time, and she prayed that by then her team would be ready and able to take them down.

* * *

A week later, Minerva found herself sitting in her office, casually spying out her window onto the Quidditch practice that was taking place below. She watched Miss Johnson gather the team into a group huddle, before assigning them laps to fly. Minerva turned back to her desk, figuring she'd get some work done while checking back periodically to make sure they were training hard.

She had finished two papers before turning to the window again, watching the team dodge between each other and criss-cross, creating quite a dizzying spectacle. Perhaps her fears were unfounded. Miss Johnson really seemed to be whipping them into shape.

It had to have been about thirty minutes into their practice before she glanced up again and saw them all flying in formation around the pitch. The thing that caught her eye, though, was that there appeared to be a hole in the formation. She moved to lean against the window to get a closer look, and after doing a quick headcount noticed that there were only six players instead of seven. It was difficult to tell from this distance who the missing player was, but after careful consideration, _of course_ it had to be Potter.

Minerva decided her grading could wait as she made her way though the castle and down to the pitch. After the team captain noticed her presence, the entire team flew down to greet their head of house. "Miss Johnson, would you be so kind as to tell me Potter's excuse for missing a mandatory practice?" It better be good. After his performance last week, he of all people should be down here with the rest of his team. She hoped that he didn't take her words of consolation as permission to rest on his laurels.

"He has another detention with Umbridge," Angelina sighed, looking about as annoyed as Minerva felt.

"Another?" She had no idea why she wasn't notified. It was standard practice for a professor to let a student's head of house know whenever one of their students received a detention. With all of Dolores's ridiculous protocols, one would think she'd have the curtesy to respect those already in place to maintain order.

"She gives him a detention nearly every practice!" Exclaimed Fred Weasley.

"Yeah, reckon his record for most detentions is starting to rival our own," George added.

"Knowing the amount of detentions I have personally given the two of you, I can tell you confidently that no one could even come close," She retorted. Still, it was absolutely unacceptable for that pink toad to assign her star seeker detentions during his practices and not even notify her as to why. "I won't keep you any longer. I assure you, this will be dealt with," she vowed with conviction. "Do carry on."

She took the long way to Umbridge's office, trying to compose what she would say once there. Oh, there were several things she'd _like_ to say, but she was determined to handle this as professionally as possible. She would remain calm and collected.

She knocked on the door to Dolores's office, waiting for a response before entering. The door slowly opened just a crack, and the toad's head popped out to greet her. "Minerva! What a surprise! Is there something I can help you with?" Her saccharine voice was already giving Minerva a migraine.

"Yes, I'm afraid so. Is Potter in there with you?"

She swore that she must have imagined it, but Dolores's exaggerated smile seemed to falter for a fraction of a second before becoming wider. "Why, yes he is. He is currently serving detention for disobedience in my class."

"Are you aware that it's protocol for all staff members to notify a student's head of house before administering the detention?" It was so difficult to keep the ire out of her voice.

"Oh, I'm afraid there must be a misunderstanding. You see, looking over the Ministry-approved standards for education, I can't seem to find any rule stating such. Perhaps I am mistaken, but it would appear as if no such rule exists." She added a quiet little girlish giggle to punctuate her statement.

"Perhaps we could discuss this further in your office?" Minerva suggested while taking a step forward.

"I'm afraid that's quite unnecessary, Minerva." She closed the door even tighter around her body, preventing Minerva from getting a peek inside. Something was not right here.

"I do insist, _Dolores." _And with that, Minerva gave a great big shove, pushing both her and the door back at the same time as she quickly made her way through. Dolores stood by the door in shock, alternating between gasping and sputtering nonsense syllables of disbelief and indignation.

The first thing she took in about the hag's office was just how _pink_ it was. She never had a feeling about the color one way or another, but in this moment she had never seen an uglier color. The second detail to catch her attention was the soft meows coming from the various plates and pictures of cats everywhere. This beast gave cat lovers a bad name. Minerva loved cats, but even this was excessive and creepy.

She made her way to the back of the office to find Potter turned around in his chair and looking at all the commotion she had caused. A large shit-eating grin appeared on his face at the sight of her. She sent a quick wink his way to let him know he wasn't in any trouble with her and that she was here to make things right.

She spent the time it took for Dolores to get over herself to further inspect the ugly office. She couldn't imagine how much time the woman had spent decorating all this. Everything was perfect, not a speck of dust out of place. The carpets (had this monstrosity installed carpeting in a castle that was almost a thousand years old?) looked drab but clean, but she did notice one spot of red disrupting the monochromatic pink nightmare. It was just slightly darker than the magenta of the carpeting, but it was clearly visible near Harry's chair.

She moved closer to see what could possibly be the single spot of imperfection in the impeccable room, when she accidentally bumped into Harry's chair, causing him to drop his quill. She quickly apologized and bent over to pick it up, when she realized the red spot had multiplied to five or six smaller surrounding dots. She picked up the quill to see the tip covered in the red ink. How odd, she thought. She had never seen Harry write in anything but black.

He held out his hand to take the quill back from her, when she saw it. She didn't hear herself gasp, but she must have as it felt like all of the air had been sucked out of the room. She dropped the quill immediately and grabbed for his hand madly, seeing the damage the monster had done. _I must not tell lies_, it said. She heard a noise of air being sucked in through someone's teeth as she looked and realized it had come from Harry. She felt awful for grasping so hard, but that feeling turned to anger in less than a second.

Hogwarts will have never seen such hell to pay.

Dolores finally righted herself and made her way over to the two of them. "I will have you know that I could have you fired right now for assaulting an esteemed member of the Wizengamot!" She protested.

"And I could have YOU fired for assaulting a student!" Minerva yelled. "As I'm sure you've read the Ministry's standards for teaching from cover to cover, surely you'd know that it is never acceptable under any circumstance to cause bodily harm to a child?" Her voice was so loud, she was sure the whole castle could likely hear.

"I'll have you know that I have done no such thing. Potter did this to himself!"

She had never seen such a look of pure hatred on the boys face. Minerva picked up the quill again. "Are you trying to tell me this quill belongs to Potter?"

Dolores let out a huff. "Yes," she answered with a pointed look towards Harry. "Tell her exactly how this quill belongs to you and you chose to do this to yourself. Go on."

"Oh, but Professor," Harry started slowly, a small smile growing that didn't match the anger in his eyes. "I must not tell lies," he stated, while looking her dead in the eyes.

There were several points since Potter had entered Hogwarts in which Minerva could say she was proud of him. The first Quidditch match he won during his first year; him obtaining the stone and solving her chess trap; fighting The basilisk in the chamber; literally facing You-Know-Who last year after successfully completing all three tasks of the Triwizard Tournament. But in this moment, the pride in her heart swelled for her lion cub. He fit every definition of brave, he did. And she could say that she was truly proud of the man he was becoming.

"I believe this detention is over," Minerva decided. The face of that _bitch_ looked more like an ugly toad now more than ever, having dropped all pretense of sweetness. She gestured for Harry to stand up, and she put her arms comfortably around his shoulders and guided him out of the room. Umbridge would get fired, that much was for sure. But for now she needed to worry about Harry.

"This. Isn't. Over!" Minerva heard the toad screech as she walked out with Harry.

"I should certainly hope not," Minerva threw back before exiting with Harry into the corridor.

As soon as they turned the corner she guided him to a nearby window sill and sat with him, gently picking up his hand once more. Her first thought, as with any incident that happened on school grounds, was what she would say in her letter home to the student's parents. Then she remembered. She closed her eyes briefly and sent a silent prayer up to Lily and James, hoping they would forgive her for letting this happen right under her nose.

In a choice that may have seemed very uncharacteristic to any student who didn't know the real woman behind the teaching mask, she lifted his hand to her lips and pressed a quick kiss there, knowing that it was likely one of the only displays of affection the boy had ever received. He had _no one _to write a letter home to. It wasn't like the Dursley's would even open a letter with the Hogwarts stamp on it. She was his only advocate.

"It really doesn't hurt that bad," he told her. "It looks a lot worse than it is." If he was at all surprised by her rare show of emotion, he didn't show it.

"It _looks _as if you need to be seen by Madam Pomfrey immediately. I'm amazed you could even pick up a quill at all with that hand! No wonder you dropped the Snitch last week! I dont even understand how you kept a hold of your broom for the duration of the match." She emphasized as she guided him to the hospital wing.

"Hermione's been sneaking me some Murtlap Essence to help dull the pain. I don't know if it's healed any, since I keep having to reopen it, but it makes it hurt less."

She stopped walking to look at him. "Potter, _you_ were not the one to inflict this wound. It is entirely because of that... that _bitch_ that you received it in the first place." Her message seemed to be lost on him though, as his wide eyes were staring incredulously at her use of language. He looked as if he was trying really hard to hold in a laugh.

She rolled her eyes and smiled, and they continued on their way. She made him smile, and that's all that mattered.

**Have a prompt? Leave a review below or PM me with your request, and I'll do my best to make it happen.**


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